A Touch of the Fingertips
by poisonivy231
Summary: Kurt has barely ever made contact with anyone because he is a faerie. This is a creature, or person, which makes a connection when it touches another. When Kurt accidentally meets Blaine Anderson, this becomes an even greater problem than he predicted.
1. Prologue

_Author's Note: Welcome to A Touch of the Fingertips! I've already posted this on my lj, so you may have seen it there. I thought I'd bring it over here, too. I hope you like it._

* * *

><p><em>Prologue<em>

The first time Kurt touched someone outside of his family, he was eight years old. He had begged his father to let him go to the playground, and Burt had agreed because he knew Kurt was lonely in their house. It had been better when he had his mother, but she was gone now, and Burt was left as the only person Kurt was connected to.

It was the middle of winter, which is why Burt allowed them to go to such a public place – a place where there would normally be children in droves, bumping shoulders with his son without any idea as to the consequences. But the Ohio snow was three feet thick, and Burt considered that cautionary weather enough.

Kurt would insist on walking into the deep snow on the sides of the path, relishing being outside of his own house and garden, even if there was nobody else around. He fell a couple of times, and Burt would instinctively try to grab him, that inexplicable fear taking over his body as he watched his child lose control of his movements, but the soft snow always caught Kurt before his father could. The little boy would laugh with a sound far more carefree than had been heard in the Hummel house for a while and brush himself off as he stood up. Once or twice he complained about the water ruining his pea coat, but he seemed too enthralled by the snow to care that much; and if you knew Kurt, which nobody did except his father, you would know that he took pea coats very seriously.

Burt brushed snow off a bench in the playground and watched his son swinging on the monkey bars, trying to stop the fear that he would get frostbite through his gloves. Protecting Kurt was what Burt spent most of his life doing, which was particularly difficult when Kurt didn't know that he needed to be protected. He wasn't aware that he was different – and Burt wasn't just talking about pea coats. (Not that he really understood what a pea coat was.)

He was watching his son run up the steps to the slide when he saw the small family join them in the playground. Burt immediately stood up, on alert, and he began to move towards Kurt. The little girl beat him to it, though. Kurt took to the slide and stopped gracefully at the bottom just as she arrived beside him. Burt saw her introduce herself, and he thought _well, she can talk to him. Talking does no harm._

Then Kurt slipped off his glove and held out his hand to the girl in front of him. She giggled and mimicked him, removing her own glove. Burt had a sudden memory of Kurt forcing him to watch one of those black-and-white movies about love and New York; he remembered the man taking off his glove before shaking hands; he remembered Kurt turning to him with a very serious expression and saying, "That's the height of politeness. When I shake hands with people, I will _always _remove my glove first." Burt had intended to tell Kurt that, no, he should on no account take off any gloves near anyone else's hands; not because it wasn't polite, because Burt was sure it was. No, it was just that _Kurt_ should not – could not do that. But here he was, hand outstretched, skin exposed to the elements, and Burt tried to lunge forward, he _tried_ to push his son's hand away, but he was too late. The girl's hand had met Kurt's in what would have been a playfully firm handshake, but did not turn out that way. Kurt did not shake her hand, but simply held it. His eyes closed, and Burt watched a shiver run through his son with a sinking feeling in his stomach. For so many years, Burt had been keeping Kurt safe. For so many years, he had been trying to avoid just this.

But now it had happened, and Kurt and this little girl, whose name Burt did not yet know, were connected.

Because when Burt said Kurt was different, he most definitely was not talking about pea coats. He wasn't talking about styled hair or clothes made to flatter your shape or magazines under pillows. He wasn't talking about an unbroken voice and the illegality of a wedding for his son. What Burt was talking about was much, much bigger than that. When Kurt shook Mercedes' hand, he did more than press his skin against hers. He joined himself to her emotionally, in a way that was frighteningly deep but completely out of his control.

Burt knew that if Kurt was ever integrated into society, people would call him all number of names. 'Fag' would be thrown around too much for any moral person to be okay with it; 'lady' would be another; but 'fairy' was the one that worried Burt the most, because the people who would say it would not know how almost-right they were. Change a few letters, replace an honorary vowel with two real ones, and you were there: faerie. It wasn't obvious and it wasn't some form of debilitating illness. You couldn't catch it, it didn't affect you – although people thought it did. It was just what Kurt _was_, by a mutation of his cells, by the process of evolution, by nature's own design, by the hand of God – who even knew?

It was pure luck that Kurt's parents found out, because there is no obvious difference between faerie and human; impish features and large eyes are not unheard of in society, and Kurt didn't have wings or horns or a spiked tail curling behind him. There are no shocking physical aspects of faeries that make humans do a double-take. In fact, humans seem to have no idea of what faeries _really_ do, because they've twisted the truth. They've made it into something vulgar, as they so often do, and it makes Burt feel ashamed of his own species.

It's all in the blood. When a faerie bleeds, they don't bleed red, but blue. A human can look at the inside of their wrist and see the veins sitting just below the surface, pumping with deoxygenated blood. A faerie can do that, too. But when the skin breaks and the blood is freed, faerie blood doesn't do a magical colour change that confuses children to no end. They are probably better models for children because they keep to the colour laws: it's blue there, so it's blue here.

Kurt was only a few days old and had been handled by his parents, his maternal grandparents, one doctor and two nurses. Burt was never quite sure whether the last three people had any lasting effect on Kurt, but he assumed that, due to his age at the time, the feelings were not as profound. As they say, you can't miss something you never knew you had. Elizabeth was walking Kurt around the living room of their family home in Lima, rocking him back and forth and cooing at him as Burt watched from the couch. He doesn't know how it happened, maybe it was fate, but Elizabeth's brooch unfastened. The sharp point of the pin snagged on their son's skin as his mother moved him in her arms, and the baby began to cry. Immediately, Burt was on his feet, hovering over his small family as his wife started to comfort Kurt. But when she went to remove the brooch, they both froze. A thin line of blue was leaking from the shallow cut on Kurt's tiny, pale arm.

Burt and Elizabeth had always made a habit of watching the news. Any evening of the week, you could find them on the sofa together, curled up under a blanket in the winter, or with every window thrown open in the summer, watching the major events of America and the not-so-major events of Ohio unfold on the screen before them. This nightly ritual meant that they had seen every report on the mysterious people who seemed to be forming a new race.

"_-features some would consider beautiful-"_

"_-big eyes in delicate faces."_

"_They bleed blue blood-"_

"_Their touch is-"_

"_-produces great sexual desire in humans-"_

"_-fears that this new race will become the sexual drug of the next generation."_

They were immobile for so long that Kurt's cries ceased. They stared at his blood, audaciously blue against his very pale skin. It wasn't the same blue as his eyes – which weren't even truly blue. They sometimes stepped over the lines and walked into green or grey territory. They were big, though. Big eyes in a delicate face. Big eyes in a delicate face which would bleed blue blood if you cut it.

"Elizabeth," Burt whispered, his voice shaking. "What – what do we do?"

She looked up at him then, away from her son. "Nothing. We can't do anything. He just…he can't touch anyone else."

So Kurt hadn't. He'd been kept out of the way of other children; of neighbours; of extended family members. Even when his parents had discovered, via a forum for parents of faeries, that their children did not produce sexual desire in human beings when touched and the truth had been grievously distorted, Kurt still left the house rarely. He would shop with his mother, but only when wearing gloves and kept close to her side. He would walk only the empty streets of Lima, and would learn only in his living room.

When Elizabeth had died, Burt didn't know what to do. He had to take Kurt with him to the shop, leave him in the office with schoolbooks and not let anyone go in. He knew it was no life for a child, but there were no options. Sex trafficking of faeries had become a common business across the world, despite the fact that it was based on a lie. When he lay on his side of the bed at night, trying not to think about the empty space beside him, Burt wondered how it happened. He couldn't comprehend how people were so stupid; how they let themselves believe what was not true just to fulfil their own concupiscence. He was hit with a barrage of images his mind created: faeries, broken, lying on the floors of cells; beautiful beings, raped by rich bastards; small children with large eyes and delicate faces, kept in the house of someone they did not know for the time when they were old enough; his own son, caged in his house, unable to leave for fear of these things.

Burt Hummel was grieving, but he was also terrified.

Watching his son shiver as he took the hand of the unwitting little girl was a moment Burt would never forget. He had spent eight years of his life avoiding that occurrence. When you run from something for that long, it catches you up much harder than you expect.


	2. Separator

_Author's Note: I forgot to disclaim. I disclaim everything except my ideas for the duration of this story._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 1 - Separator<em>

Kurt was flipping through _Vogue_at the kitchen table when Burt sat down opposite him.

"Kurt, you remember how I told you I…met someone?"

"Carole," Kurt said with a smile.

"Yes. I… well, Kurt, I've fallen in love. With Carole. I thought I would never find another woman after your mother, but Carole – Carole is like sunshine."

Kurt nodded. He understood what his father was trying to tell him: he would never replace Kurt's mother, but he couldn't help the way he felt.

"Son," Burt continued, "I want you to meet Carole. But before you meet her, I want... I want her to know about you. And I know that's not my story to tell, but I—"

"Do you want to marry her?" Kurt asked, interrupting his father. His tone was not cruel, but genuinely interested.

"I – I haven't asked her."

"But you want to."

Burt appraised his son for a second, reading the expression in his eyes, and nodded.

"Bring her over tomorrow, then. If you trust her, then you should tell her about me. And I believe that she will be a good person if you love her, so I give you my permission."

Burt chuckled at that, looking at his son the way he did sometimes, so lovingly that it made Kurt's heart swell. "Thank you, Kurt. She has a boy, as well, and he's your age. Should I invite him, too?"

"Have you met him?"

"Yeah. He's a good kid. We've got a lot in common and I think you two would get on well."

Kurt considered for a moment, then smiled at his dad. "Bring both of them. I can't wait to meet my future step-mother."

* * *

><p>Kurt knew from the moment she entered the house that he would like Carole. She brought a warmth with her that enveloped the whole household, and somehow her lack of fashion sense seemed to work for her. She had taken the news of Kurt being a faerie in her stride, listening carefully to Burt's explanation and allowing him to dispel all ideas she had formerly had about the "race". When she arrived, she was careful not to touch Kurt, but bestowed large smiles and praises on him.<p>

Her son, who introduced himself as Finn, hung back slightly. He looked wary, but Kurt had expected this, so he let it go. Finn didn't seem as though he completely understood about Kurt, but Burt had whispered to his son that he just needed time to adjust.

Burt had invited the pair for dinner, so they all sat around the table, conversation flowing surprisingly easily, except on Finn's end. Kurt knew Finn was apprehensive and that was acceptable, as all the things he had thought about faeries had just been realigned. He kept glancing at Kurt, probably with less subtlety than he intended, and he seemed to be trying to fit all his new thoughts together in those fleeting looks.

Kurt, for his part, found himself repeatedly looking at Finn; although, he had greater stealth and different reasons. Kurt had come into contact with very few people in life, and even fewer boys, so it was perhaps not surprising that he began to consider Finn's cluelessness and lack of co-ordination attractive. He examined the way the soft light of the kitchen hit Finn's features and found it almost beautiful. He had no idea if he liked tall boys; maybe he did, maybe he had no preference. He did think he like brunets. Well, he liked _this_brunet.

Kurt could hardly be blamed for his thoughts: being separated from most of society for his whole life had left him with very few points of reference. Television, magazines and the internet can only tell a boy so much. In fact, just figuring out that he liked boys was confusing enough for Kurt. He was not exposed to things the way normal children were, and there were many conflicting views on the internet about gay people. All he had known was that he would note which boys were good-looking, but which girls were wearing good clothes. He had been forced to ask his father what the world thought of a person being gay when he was thirteen and although it had been awkward, it had been essential for not only Kurt, but their relationship.

Now that he was sure he liked boys, there was the problem of actually meeting any. He never went to crowded places; he didn't go to school, instead learning at home; he was very unlikely to cross paths with a boy, let alone have enough contact to fancy one. So his attraction to Finn could be put down entirely to desperation for some kind of romance in his life and a certain level of naivety.

"What school do you go to, Finn?" Kurt hadn't quite realised he was going to ask the question until it was half spoken and there was no taking it back. It was perfectly normal, though. It wasn't a prying question in any way.

Finn, however, looked shocked by being addressed directly, and especially by Kurt. His reaction clearly showed that he was unsure how to act around him. "McKinley. William McKinley. It's…kind of terrible, quite near here. I'm…I'm in Glee Club and I'm on the football team and…" Finn had evidently realised that he had gone beyond what the question asked of him and immediately shut his mouth, but Kurt was not discouraged.

"I have a friend who goes there. Actually, she's in Glee Club. Mercedes Jones?"

Finn looked beyond shocked that he and Kurt had a mutual friend. "Yeah, Mercedes. She's cool." He fell silent, and Kurt could tell he was still trying to process the information.

"So, you like singing?"

Finn nodded awkwardly, not meeting Kurt's eye over the table. The two adults were watching their interaction curiously, and Kurt was sure his dad was hoping this would turn out well.

Kurt was determined to keep the conversation alive for just a few more sentences. "I love singing. I don't know how I would live without it. Do you like Broadway?"

Finn pushed his food around his plate and rubbed the back of his neck, still not making eye contact. It was probably for the best, because he would have been even more put off by the look Kurt was giving him. "I think so. I don't know that many Broadway songs, but we sing some stuff in Glee and it's pretty good, so…" He trailed off once more.

"I can play you some, if you like. If you come over again, I can give you a crash course." Kurt was smiling widely at Finn, not noticing Burt and Carole's hopeful faces. Finn finally looked up at him, and Kurt could see the thoughts running through his head. He knew that what he was scared Finn slightly, but only because he was unsure how to react to it. He could tell that Finn was trying desperately, probably for his mother's sake, to be okay with it. And he could see the moment Finn made the decision, because his eyes became less clouded with thought and he smiled. This boy wore his emotions on every feature.

"Thanks, Kurt. That…would be awesome."

Kurt grinned at him once more, then struck up a conversation with Carole about the perfect soufflé, as he had been delighted to learn she enjoyed cooking. He continued to watch Finn out of the corner of his eye, but he did not try to make direct conversation again: Kurt knew when not to push people.

At least, he thought he did.

* * *

><p>As she and Finn were leaving that night, Carole turned to Kurt one last time to wish him goodbye. She was only going to wave to him, but Kurt stepped towards her, locking their eyes as a way of asking if what he was about to do was okay with her. When she nodded the slightest bit, looking nervous, Kurt wrapped his arms around her. Their cheeks brushed against each other and Kurt felt the rush of energy, emotion and something unnameable he had not experienced for years flow through him. It was like sparks in his veins, and he shuddered as it filled his body. When he became conscious of the world around him once more, Carole was holding him in his arms. He clung to her for longer than other people would have, just breathing in the motherly scent of this woman he was now deeply attached to. He had bound himself to her, and he knew it was not a mistake by the way she held him, running her fingers through his hair very gently.<p>

When he pulled away at last, Carole cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead. Her eyes were wet with tears and Kurt felt warmth spread through him of a different kind. Making the connection was an exhilarating and beautiful feeling, but having the person you had tied yourself to emotionally show that they cared for you in return was almost better. A feeling of contentment settled in Kurt's chest, only growing when his father pulled him into a hug of his own.

Finn did not follow the trend of embracing Kurt, but he did not find this offensive. In fact, he did not feel ready to be connected to Finn, so he was glad he had refrained.

The Hudson family moved in very soon after that. Burt had proposed before the move and Carole slotted into their lives as if it was natural. Kurt wasn't sure if that was because he was connected to her, or because she just fitted into their family.

Finn was not as easy. He was not just another piece of the family puzzle, falling perfectly into place. He had hated leaving the house his father had lived in, and did not seem keen on moving in with people he barely knew, regardless of how much he liked Burt. Kurt and his father learned to work with it, though, trying very hard to make life comfortable for Finn. Kurt took to bringing him a glass of warm milk each night, hoping it would make him feel at home.

Kurt should have realised then that he was letting his emotions for Finn run too far. He always prided himself on knowing when he was pushing people, even though he knew so few. He also prided himself on being able to push just enough to get what he wanted. He seemed to have lost his touch, however, because he was blind to the discomfort he was causing Finn. Burt had informed Carole and Finn that Kurt was gay when he told them about Kurt being a faerie. Kurt knew very well that Finn was straight; he had even seen pictures of his soon-to-be-step-brother's girlfriend – a cheerleader, he could see from the uniform. But Kurt did not know what he was doing, and he was ridiculously hopeful. He played Finn Broadway songs and they sang together a couple of times. Finn had a good voice, Kurt could tell, but the lanky boy never seemed to throw himself into the duets the way Kurt did. That should have been another sign, but Kurt was a remarkably oblivious boy when it came to Finn.

One day, Burt pulled Kurt into the kitchen when he saw his son trying to make Finn try on a 'more fashionable ensemble'. "Kurt, you know you are going to have to connect to Finn one day, don't you?"

"Of course, Dad. It would be impossible to live with him and not touch him _forever_."

"And you know that it's very likely that you are going to love him deeply, but only as a brother."

Kurt opened his mouth, but no words were forthcoming. He did not realise he had been so transparent that his _father_had sensed his feelings for Finn. Then again, Kurt always forgot how perceptive Burt was in relation to his son.

Burt nodded, seeming to understand Kurt's thoughts. "I don't want you to hurt yourself, Kurt. You have to be just as careful with your emotions as you do with physical contact. I'm not going to tell you what to feel, but you need to remember to consider other people. Think about what you're doing to Finn, okay?"

Kurt had nodded, but he had not been fully aware of what he was doing until that moment. He resolved to attempt to put non-platonic thoughts of Finn out of his mind, if only for his father's peace of mind. Finn, however, had not grasped that Kurt was no longer trying to win his affection.

Kurt was discussing the details of skincare with Finn, ignoring the fact that he was quite blatantly bored and confused beyond anything. He reached up to gesture at Finn's face, about to indicate where his T-zone was, but Finn had tuned out of the conversation slightly, and reacted instinctively to what he thought was an advance on Kurt's part. He slapped Kurt's hand away forcefully.

Finn only realised what he had done when Kurt closed his eyes and shivered. He immediately pulled back, standing up and moving away from Kurt, hoping that would undo what he had put in motion, but it was a vain attempt. He had touched Kurt, and that was it. Kurt opened his eyes, looking a little dazed, and sought Finn out.

"Kurt, dude, I'm so sorry. I didn't realise, I'm _so _sorry." Finn was panicking.

Kurt let out a soft laugh and stood up to pull Finn into a hug. "It's okay. It was going to happen at some point, so this was as good a time as any. At least I can hand you things across the table now."

Finn let out an awkward chuckle and put his arms gingerly around Kurt. "So I guess this means you love me as a friend, right?"

Kurt laughed again and gave Finn a squeeze before releasing him. "As a brother." Finn did not notice Kurt's slight disappointment that his budding emotions had been taken away from him by an unthinking wrist slap. He simply grinned and hugged Kurt again, before dragging him to tell Burt and Carole.

* * *

><p>One would think life in the Hudson-Hummel – or 'Hudmel', as Finn insisted on calling it – household would get easier from that point on. However, Kurt being connected to Finn, although stopping any romantic feelings Kurt had for him, had caused issues of its own. Kurt now loved Finn far more deeply than Finn had had the chance to return. Finn was more comfortable with Kurt, but he hadn't known him long enough to think of him as his brother, so when Kurt treated him as one it was confusing and a little alarming.<p>

The nightly warm milk was the worst for Finn. He knew Kurt meant well, but he just thought it was _weird_, especially when Kurt tried to draw out his step-brother's innermost secrets while sitting cross-legged at the end of his bed. Kurt was intrigued by Finn's school life and would perhaps admit that he was trying to live vicariously through him. It was difficult, though, when Finn answered mainly in monosyllables and didn't seem to know what was going on in his own life half the time.

"Wait, but you're going out with Quinn. Why are you complaining about her? I thought you loved her."

Finn moaned and leaned his head back against the wall. "I _do_. She can just be difficult sometimes."

"But when you love someone, you love everything about them, even the things you hate," Kurt rattled off, repeating an amalgamation of every good romance novel he could remember. "Isn't that right?"

Finn let out a heavy sigh. "Whatever, Kurt. You wouldn't get it."

Kurt frowned. "What? Why?" Then his eyes widened. "Oh, do you mean because I'm gay?" This was a new thought for him. He didn't really know, as someone who was gay, what he would and would not get.

"What?" Finn sat up very quickly from where he had been lounging on the bed. "No, not that at all. Just because you're…"

"Because I'm what?"

"Because you don't really know any girls other than Mercedes. Or, well, anyone, really, outside of us." He gestured to the house to indicate who he meant by 'us'.

Kurt opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, unsure what to say. He didn't know why Finn's words hurt so much. "Oh, so I won't get your relationship because I don't have any friends?"

"No, Kurt I didn't mean it like that."

"Because that's not my fault, Finn."

Finn was starting to look panicked at the hurt expression on Kurt's face. "No, Kurt, I know. I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Just like me being connected to you isn't my fault."

"Kurt, don't."

"Don't what? I know it makes you uncomfortable. I love you more than you can understand and you don't even know me. Fine. You're the one that slapped my wrist because you didn't want to be infected by my 'gay disease'." Kurt stood up and left the room before Finn had a chance to reply. Finn felt immeasurably guilty. The feeling only worsened when he heard the slam of Kurt's door and the unmistakeable sob that followed.


	3. The Only Exception

_Author's Note: I am syncing up my lj and ff, so there are going to be lots of updates today. This is not normal! I try to update as quickly as I can, but I do not claim to be capable of five chapters in one day. Thank you so much for your reviews and story alerts already; every single one makes me smile. So, on with the chapter._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 2 - The Only Exception<em>

Kurt very rarely bled. It could be considered lucky if he wasn't the one implementing it. He had never so much as grazed his skin in public – not that he got out all that much. He was definitely a homebody, even if it wasn't a voluntary state. So the first time it happened one has to wonder whether it was some sort of design of the dwarf living on the dark side of the moon, or a twist of fate, or just a little bit of love that caused it to happen.

Every two weeks, Kurt insisted on being allowed to shop for groceries. It was his 'outside time' as he called it. He would go at seven on a Sunday morning, when it was certain there would be very few people in the store for him to brush up against. So it was that a Sunday morning in September, Kurt was found in the fruit aisle, trying to decide which green apples would be healthiest for his father. Another boy wandered into the aisle, about Kurt's age, and Kurt was intrigued. He had never seen a person under forty shopping at this time unless they had a child or two in tow. When the boy seemed like he was about to glance his way, however, Kurt quickly looked back to the apples. He tried not to make eye contact with strangers as a rule: there was no telling how perceptive they would be.

He almost jumped when he felt the boy pause next to him, seeming to browse the fruit. Kurt looked at him out of the corner of his eye, wondering what he was doing here. He reached out for an apple, but another arm stretched out at the same time as his. Kurt pulled his hand back instinctively, but he hadn't been quick enough. The zip on the cuff of the boy's jacket scratched against the back of Kurt's hand and because of the fast movement of his arm, it dug in a little, just enough to break the skin and make it bleed in a long, shallow scratch.

The boy reached forward instinctively to wrap his hand around Kurt's wrist as a sign of apology, the word 'sorry' already on his lips, but Kurt whipped his arm back, cradling it to his chest before it could be touched. The boy's attention was drawn towards it and he had gasped before Kurt could realise what he must be seeing.

"Oh my god," the boy whispered, staring shell-shocked at the tiny scratch of blue blood traced down the back of Kurt's hand. "You… you're a…"

"Please don't…" Kurt wasn't sure what he was going to ask the boy not to do. Tell anyone? Touch him? Rape him?

"I'm so sorry I cut you. I won't touch you, I promise. I'm not… I wouldn't do that," the boy said, wrenching his eyes away from the blood to catch Kurt's own. There was something so kind in the boy's gaze that Kurt couldn't help but believe him.

"Thank you. And it was an accident, so don't worry about it. I just… I should probably leave before someone else sees it." He looked down at the shopping basket in his hand, chewing on his lip briefly as he thought about the questions his father would ask when he came home without groceries.

"Here," the boy said, reaching into his pocket. "Take these." He held out a pair of fingerless gloves to Kurt with a smile on his face. "It seems a shame to abandon all that hard shopping." He nodded towards the over-brimming basket Kurt was holding.

"I…" Kurt reached up and took the proffered gloves, while carefully avoiding touching any of the boy's skin. "Thank you…"

"Blaine," the boy finished for him.

"Kurt." There was an awkward almost-shuffle between them in that space where a handshake should have been. Kurt pulled the gloves on, hissing a little when the fabric pulled across the cut on his hand, but knowing this small amount of pain was better than the alternative. "How will I give them back to you?"

Blaine seemed to be evaluating Kurt for a second, before he cocked his head to the side and grinned. "I could shop with you, if you don't mind."

Kurt was usually very careful with people he didn't know, but there was something so open about Blaine that set him apart from the rest of the avoided world. Perhaps it was the gesture of the gloves, or the fact that Blaine hadn't dragged him off to an alley, or maybe it was just the way he had tilted his head before he spoke, but Kurt found himself agreeing. Blaine quickly fell into step beside him as they walked down the toiletries aisle.

"Do you need any shampoo?" Blaine asked, his eyes twinkling as he gestured towards the vast wall of bottles.

"If you're going to ask me whether I need every single thing we walk past then I will have to seriously reconsider letting you shop with me."

Blaine laughed and looked like he was about to bump shoulders with Kurt, but seemed to think better of it when he saw how close their hands would get. "Okay, I'll be good. But, seriously, do you need shower gel?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and shifted his basket to the hand between them, using it as a physical barrier. Just in case. "You're not as funny as you think, Mr I-shop-freakishly-early-on-Sundays."

"I don't."

"What?"

"I don't normally shop at this time. I just… I needed to do something."

"So you went grocery shopping. Naturally."

"You're very sarcastic, you know that?"

Kurt grinned wickedly and reached across to grab a box of tissues to put in his basket. "I do. It's one of my best qualities."

Kurt wasn't sure how it happened, but he found himself placing a cup of coffee in front of Blaine where he sat at the kitchen table later that day. He slid into the chair opposite the boy and removed the gloves, wrinkling his nose when he saw some of the fluff stuck in the congealed blood on his hand. As he picked it out, he said, "Why did you decide to be nice to me? You could have easily dragged me off and had your way with me."

"I don't… I don't agree with the way the world treats people like you. It's… sickening." Blaine's voice was very soft, and Kurt looked up from his hand, surprised by the intensity of it. He hadn't known that there were people who actually _cared_outside of faerie families other than Carole and Finn – and he always assumed they were wonderful anomalies – so the deep frown on Blaine's face was shocking to him.

"It's worse if you know what we are really like," Kurt replied, his voice dropping to the low register that Blaine's had taken on. He didn't know why he trusted this boy so much.

Blaine's frown deepened, but from confusion rather than anger. "What do you mean?"

"Well." Kurt had removed the last piece of fluff from his skin, so he clasped his hands together on the tabletop. He felt ridiculously nervous: he had never been the one to explain the way of faeries to someone. "You think that when you touch us, it creates… indomitable lust in both parties."

Blaine nodded.

"That's not… It's not strictly true. In fact, the lust part isn't true at all; that's just something humans have twisted. When we… when faeries touch people, they fall in love. Not lust, but love. Sometimes its friendship, sometimes its romance, but it's unavoidable either way. We become involuntarily connected to another human being in the deepest way possible. I don't know when it started, but one person took that and made into something far less pure. One human changed the story and now most of the world believes we are sex-crazed, libidinous animals. _That_is sickening."

Kurt couldn't look at Blaine, but he had a feeling the boy's mouth was open in shock. He could hear Blaine's slightly uneven breathing from across the table, giving away his emotions without Kurt having to see him.

"That is… I can't think of a word for how horrible that is. I am _so_sorry. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry on behalf of my whole race for what we've done to you."

Kurt let out a strangled laugh at Blaine's words. "There's that, too. We're the same race, Blaine. It's proven, but people ignore the evidence because they feel too guilty about doing what they do to their own race. We're a slight mutation of the human form, but we're not a different race altogether, no matter what you name us." He lifted his head, and immediately felt guilty when he saw the tears pooling Blaine's eyes. He didn't know whether they were of shame or of remorse, but he felt that he had caused them. He moved one of his hands across the table a little as a sign that he would hold Blaine's hand if he only could. "Hey, don't be upset. You didn't know. It's not your fault, Blaine. You were just raised in the society that we're part of, with the beliefs that it holds, no matter how disgusting they are. You can't help how you're brought up."

Blaine wiped furiously at the tears which were spilling onto his cheeks and let out a harsh breath. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be the one crying. I'm not the one who…" His breath hitched and he looked away from Kurt.

"Don't apologise. If anything, it's comforting to see that you're affected by this, as cruel as that may sound. I'm not used to people caring, Blaine, so this is… well, it's interesting."

Blaine was silent for a minute, before asking, "When we touch you, is that a lie as well? Do we not feel lust towards you?"

"Not any more than you do when touching anyone else in the world." Kurt brought his hand back from where it lay on the table, clutching it to his chest. He had felt oddly naked with it being there, unable to be held.

"But I don't understand how people can still believe it. Surely they must notice if it doesn't actually happen?"

"They say 'be careful what you wish for'. The more you believe something, the more it starts to become a reality. People feel lust when they touch us because that is what they are expecting to feel. And we… faeries fall in love, so they let them rape them. That's why there are so many faeries in seemingly willing captivity."

Blaine nodded slowly, but didn't seem to be able to think of a reply. Kurt was slightly relieved because he wasn't sure he could talk much more on the subject. It was hard enough explaining this to someone he barely knew, so he had no idea how it must have felt for his father to tell this to Carole.

Eventually, Blaine sucked a breath through his teeth and spoke. "When you say 'fall in love', what exactly do you mean?"

"Just that. Love. My best friend – well, my _only_friend – Mercedes accidentally shook hands with me and I instantly connected to her. It was as though we had been friends forever. The emotion can be platonic or romantic depending on who you touch, but it's real either way. It's the deepest emotional connection you can have, formed at the tiniest brush of skin. If I were to touch you now, I might think of you as practically my brother, while you are left seeing me as the random faerie you met in the grocery store this morning. It's…emotionally draining to think about. I'm very lucky in that, outside of my current family, I've only ever touched Mercedes, and that she wanted to become my friend after I did." Kurt knew this was the most complex part of faerie life for humans to understand, despite it being the defining feature. He was, therefore, expecting the emotions that crossed Blaine's face: confusion, then shock, then horror.

"So," he replied, voice shaking a little, "whenever humans… whenever they rape a faerie, the faerie's in love with them?"

"Not necessarily. They may think of them as their best friend, but they are still emotionally joined to them and unlikely to fight back – at least at first. Whenever I think about how that must feel, I just…" He knew his eyes were filling with tears, but Blaine's were as well, so he didn't fight them. He tried to avoid thinking about these things, but he couldn't always evade the thoughts of what people like him went through. There were times when he would become overwhelmed by the horrendous images flashing through his brain and would have to go into his father's bedroom, pull open all the drawers of the dresser, and try to breathe normally as he lay on the floor. He would let his mother's perfume permeate the room and soothe his mind. He would try to think about her rather than the people lying violated and heartbroken in backstreets and the bedrooms of mansions.

"I never thought people could be such monsters." Blaine brushed at the tears on his cheeks and laughed a little. It was humourless, simply an attempt at alleviating his discomfort. Kurt hated his body in that moment because it would have felt like the most natural thing in the world to reach out and take Blaine's hand in his own. "God, Kurt," Blaine said, his voice harsh now. "You're not an _animal_."

It was at that point that Kurt broke. His tears turned to sobs as he watched the boy in front of him; the kind of person Kurt hadn't even known existed. Blaine truly cared and understood more than Kurt had thought anyone could. He had been in shock since the moment Blaine hadn't tried to take him in the grocery store and then hadn't run away from Kurt as quickly as possible. He had thought then that this boy was different and perhaps better than the rest, but he hadn't been expecting someone so compassionate.

"Kurt." Blaine leaned forwards, looking alarmed. "Kurt, what's wrong? I'm so sorry if I said something—"

"No, Blaine, no." Kurt shook his head frantically, hand over his mouth in an attempt to control his almost hysterical sobs. "I'm just not – I've never met anyone like you. You care so deeply and you don't even _know _me."

Blaine looked utterly torn. "I really, really want to hug you. I want to hold you and convince you that life doesn't have to be this way."

Kurt cried harder, nodding, though he knew not why. He wanted that so desperately, but Blaine saying it made it at least partially real. He could imagine it. He closed his eyes, feeling the tears on his cheeks and hearing Blaine's breathing across from him. He could hear the hitches in it that told him Blaine was crying.

Kurt hadn't kept track of time. He and Blaine had cried until they couldn't any more, then simply stared at each other. There was nothing else to say at that point: Kurt couldn't talk any more even if Blaine thought he could bear to hear, and it was not the easiest topic to move on from. Kurt spent the time memorising Blaine's face and wondering how he had been lucky enough to meet this boy. He eventually heard movement from upstairs and realised that it would probably be better to explain his meeting with Blaine to his father before the two became acquainted. Blaine understood this, immediately standing to leave.

"Thank you for the coffee," he said, looking Kurt in the eyes with such raw openness that Kurt almost staggered. He knew Blaine was thanking him for more than that.

"Thank you for the gloves."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Reviews make me happier than you know. Klisses to you all!_


	4. Coffee and TV

_A/N: In case anyone would like to follow me on tumblr, I'm at** http : / / cirisamorpheus . tumblr . com /** (remove the spaces). Anything I post there related to this fic can be found in the 'a touch of the fingertips' tag in the sidebar. If you have any questions about this fic, about faeries, anything, go ahead and ask me, here or on tumblr._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 3 - Coffee and TV<br>_

When Finn stumbled into the kitchen about half an hour after Blaine left, he didn't realise Kurt was there at first. He buried his head in the fridge almost immediately and sounds of rummaging came from within.

"Do you want some coffee?"

Finn jumped violently at Kurt's voice, his head hitting the inside of the fridge. Kurt heard Finn curse and tried to not to laugh as he emerged, rubbing the back of his head and wincing.

"God, Kurt, warn a guy." Finn's tone was lightly teasing, which Kurt hadn't been expecting. The two of them had barely spoken since their argument two days before. Although it killed Kurt, he hadn't thought Finn had been that affected by it; just further proof that he wasn't ready for the depth their relationship had grown. Finn seemed to realise who he was talking to and began to shuffle his feet awkwardly.

"I'll make you some," Kurt said quickly to avoid the tension already stringing itself between them. He just started to stand up when Finn moved towards the table.

"No, wait. Kurt…can we talk?"

"What about?" Kurt knew exactly 'what about.' He was stalling.

"I wanted to apologise. Can I sit down?"

Kurt gestured to the chair across from him. "It's as much your table as it is mine."

Finn squeezed under the table, stretching out his legs when his knees hit the underside. His large feet bumped against Kurt's, seemingly intending to stretch under his chair. Kurt glared at him and he quickly pulled his legs back, placing his feet just away from Kurt's.

"Kurt, you have to know that I didn't mean it like that."

Kurt sighed, letting himself slump a little in his chair. "There really aren't many other ways you could have meant it."

Finn nodded with a frown. He seemed to think for a second, the crease between his brows deepening, before he spoke. "I know I'm pretty stupid sometimes. I'm not the brightest guy in the world and that's okay. But sometimes I do…dumb things. I say stuff and it doesn't come out the way it should. I hurt people." He looked up and caught Kurt's eye. "People that I care about and I don't mean to do it. I suppose I need to learn when to keep my mouth shut, but, Kurt, you have to know that I didn't want to hurt you. It doesn't matter how messed up our…" He waved his hands around in the air as he searched for the word. "_Bonding_ has been. You're my brother. I don't love you the way you love me, not yet, but I still love you. And, if you can forgive me, I'd really like the chance to feel the way you do."

Kurt didn't want to be won over so easily, but he loved Finn regardless of whether it was his choice to or not and he was so endearing that it was difficult. "You really need to work on the things you say to people, Finn."

"I know and I can't apologise enough times."

"You need to think about what you're going to say before you say it. Even I know that and I've been basically locked in this house for sixteen years."

Finn's lips quirked at the edges and Kurt gave him a small smile to show that he was allowed to laugh at that. Then Finn full on grinned and stood up, tripping around the table to bundle Kurt up in a hug.

"Thank you so much, Kurt."

Kurt hugged Finn's forearm, which was all he could really get at because of the way he was wrapped awkwardly in his arms. "It's fine. I forgive you because I know you didn't mean it. But, seriously, you need to let go of me so I can make you coffee."

"Why are you making _me_ coffee? I'm the one that's apologising, I should be doing that."

Kurt twisted in Finn's grip to quirk an eyebrow at him. "Really, Finn? Do you even know how to use the coffee machine?"

Finn blushed a little. "It can't be that hard."

Kurt rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. He extricated himself from the long-armed hug and made his way to the counter. "I am a superior coffee maker. As my brother, you will have to learn to deal with that. I'm providing the caffeine."

* * *

><p>Kurt was working on a McQueen-esque jacket on the couch the next afternoon, whiling away the hours that everyone else spent at work and school when he realised it. He didn't have Blaine's number. He had no way to contact him. He didn't even know his last name. He pricked his finger with his embroidery needle and cursed under his breath as small drips of blue blood stained the fabric.<p>

Kurt was panicking. He had been so stupid, thinking that Blaine would just accept that he was a faerie and move on. Kurt had told Blaine things that made him more vulnerable than anyone should be with someone they barely know. His imagination, grown wild from so many years locked away from the world, forced to piece together an image of life from films and literature, was jumping from one horrifying scenario to the next.

When the doorbell rang, Kurt was pacing the living room, having abandoned his jacket in his terror. His father wasn't there, so he would have to open it. He would have to stand far back from the door just in case the person behind it decided to stretch out a hand.

He wasn't expecting that person to be Blaine.

"Hey," Blaine said with an adorably hopeful grin on his face. "I realised I left without any way of contacting you again and I was just wondering, well, if you want me, if I could come in and maybe get a phone number or email or something. Because I'd like to talk to you again. But if I'm overstepping, feel free to just send me on my way."

Kurt laughed and reached out a hand to drag Blaine inside before pulling back sharply. His smile dropped a little, as did Blaine's. "You're not overstepping. I was actually just freaking out that you'd left and you knew all these things about me and I didn't even know your last name, so please come in."

Blaine grinned, looking relieved and waited for Kurt to move back before crossing the threshold. Kurt hated that moment when there should have been some form of contact as a greeting upon Blaine entering the house. It made him realise how much he relied on touching those he knew to show his affection for them. Although he had only known Blaine a day, he still wanted to be able to at least shake his hand or be given the chance to suffer through a vaguely awkward hug.

Kurt gestured for Blaine to follow him and led the other boy further into the house. He paused at the bottom of the stairs, unsure which way to go from there. He normally took guests – i.e. Mercedes – up to his bedroom, but was it more polite to settle them in the living room? He turned to Blaine with a frown on his face.

"Couch or bed?"

"I'm sorry?" Blaine looked like he was going to choke.

"Would you rather sit on a couch or a bed? I'm having an etiquette crisis."

"Oh, either is fine. Do what you do with Mercedes." Blaine grinned at Kurt and he returned it. He hadn't expected Blaine to remember things like his friend's name. Then again, Blaine seemed to be one enormous exception to rules for Kurt. He almost – _almost_ – grabbed Blaine's hand to pull him up the stairs, but managed to keep his arm by his side. He would have to learn to restrain his tactile impulses. Instead, he just gestured with his head, allowing Blaine to climb ahead of him. He let himself press a hand to the small of Blaine's back, covered by layers of clothing, to guide him to the right doorway. Blaine jumped, but when he realised that it was safe, he looked at Kurt over his shoulder with a soft smile. They could have some semblance of normality. They could work around this.

Kurt wondered, as Blaine sat on his bed and took in Kurt's talents at interior design, at what point the two of them had decided to be this way; to be friends without touch; to connect without Kurt _connecting_. He didn't know if it was when he told Blaine what faeries really were, or when they swapped gloves and coffee, or from the very first moment that Blaine promised he wouldn't touch Kurt in front of the apples.

"What do you do during the day?" Blaine's words broke into Kurt's thoughts, making him realise he had been watching Blaine on the bed as he stared at the things placed neatly around the room. Kurt had been unconsciously studying Blaine's cheekbones and the slight crease of laughter ever-present around his eyes, while Blaine had been taking in the neat piles of magazines on the desk, the sample fabrics and sewing machine beside them. "I mean," Blaine continued, turning his gaze onto Kurt, "I'm assuming you can't go to school."

"Read, educate myself, watch TV, obsess over _Vogue_."

"Is that all?"

"No…I create, too."

"What do you mean?" Blaine asked, although Kurt saw his eyes flick back to the desk.

Kurt stood up, walking to one of the sliding doors on his closet. He pulled it back, then the next, and the next, until the wall of doors was pulled back, showing the clothes packed onto the rail within. Kurt turned towards Blaine and held out an arm, gesturing to the clothes proudly, although Blaine could see the slight nervousness in his eyes.

"I make clothes. Generally they're just for me, but I've made stuff for Carole and Mercedes and a couple of pieces for models."

"Models?"

"Well." Kurt shifted uncomfortably. "For my mannequins. Nobody's ever worn them. I don't…I don't know anyone who could."

Blaine's mouth opened as if he was going to reply, but he closed it again and the sad look was back in his eyes. "Male or female?"

"Both."

"Too long for me?"

Kurt smirked and gestured for Blaine to stand up. He picked a measuring tape off his dresser and held it by Blaine's head, letting it unravel until it touched the floor. He noticed that Blaine was remaining unnaturally still in an attempt not to touch his forehead to Kurt's knuckle. Kurt stepped on the end of the tape, checked the number and chuckled before pulling it back into his hand.

"Much too long."

"Was the tape measure really necessary?"

"No. I wanted to know how tall you are so I know what length to make pants now." Kurt smiled at Blaine nervously as he rolled the tape measure up. "That is, if you want my clothes."

"Of course I do."

* * *

><p>"Hey, white boy!" The shout came from the door, which slammed soon afterwards.<p>

"Who's that?" Blaine asked, frowning at Kurt. Kurt closed the issue of _Vogue_ he had been using to demonstrate what clothes he might make for Blaine.

"Mercedes," Kurt said. "In here!" he called out.

Blaine nodded with an 'ah' of comprehension before Mercedes barrelled through the door and swept Kurt into her arms.

"Oh, Kurt, I haven't seen you in so long!"

"It's been three days, Mercedes."

She pulled back, pretending to look affronted. "Are you saying you didn't miss me?" She suddenly caught sight of Blaine over Kurt's shoulder. "Who's this?" She stepped out of Kurt's arms with a worried frown. Unknown boys did not just wander into Kurt Hummel's bedroom.

"This is Blaine. Blaine, this is Mercedes, my best friend." Silently, Kurt remembered his argument with Finn. _My only friend._ Could he count Blaine as a friend? Kurt didn't know the etiquette for these things; he wasn't sure at what point people bridged the gap between acquaintances and friends. He was generally all or nothing in these situations.

Blaine smiled, standing and holding his hand out to Mercedes, who shook it in a way that made Blaine think she was trying to read his mind through the point of contact.

"Nice to meet you," he said.

She didn't reply, but turned to Kurt. "How do you know him? Have you…?" She glanced at Blaine, obviously unsure how much he knew.

"Grocery store mishap, 'Cedes. We're not connected."

She turned back to Blaine. "And you know?"

Blaine nodded, trying not to look as afraid as he felt. She was surprisingly intimidating. If the rest of Kurt's family was like this, Blaine wasn't sure he'd be able to continue being charming.

Mercedes gave him one last look, evidently trying to read him, then turned back to Kurt. "Finn's over at Mike's I think. We're doing boys versus girls again and the boys haven't prepared anything, so they're trying to pull it together before tomorrow."

"Why aren't you doing something, then?"

She smiled indulgently at him. "Because we're fabulous and we're gonna blow their male asses out the water."

Kurt grinned and pushed her shoulder before explaining to Blaine. "Mercedes is in the glee club at school with my step-brother."

"Seriously?" Blaine asked. "Me too! Have you heard of The Warblers?"

"Oh, you're those private school boys. Yeah, we'll see you at Sectionals."

Blaine opened his mouth, but couldn't think of a reply to her abrupt words. He simply nodded and smiled, trying not to look too offended. Kurt noticed, however, if the way he glared at Mercedes was any indication.

"Well," Kurt said stiffly, "if you're from rival glee clubs we should probably find something to talk about that won't risk either of you selling out secrets to the opposition. I'll make you guys something to eat."

"You can cook?" Blaine asked, trying to convince himself that he didn't see Mercedes roll her eyes.

"I have many talents, Blaine…Warbler, was it?"

"That's not going to be a thing, is it?"

Kurt smirked, evidently about to reply, but Mercedes grabbed Blaine's arm, startling him, and pushed him towards the door. "Food sounds great, Kurt. I'm starving." Mercedes pulled Kurt back when he tried to leave the room after Blaine and whispered frantically in his ear. "Are you sure you can trust him, Kurt?"

"Yes," he hissed back. "Please believe me, it's fine."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Kurt, I don't want to tell you how to live your life. I know you have enough things doing that for you already." She took his hand in hers. "But don't you think this is at least suspicious? How often do nice boys meet faeries in grocery stores?"

"There aren't many normal things in my life, Mercedes," Kurt replied, eyes starting to blaze. "There are nice people out there. Why can't I be lucky enough to meet one of them?" He knew they'd waited too long to follow Blaine, so he didn't let her reply. He dragged her out of the room by the hand and found Blaine waiting politely at the bottom of the stairs. Blaine's eyes glanced down at their joined hands. When he looked at Kurt again, he had an expression that Kurt couldn't quite place. It wasn't pitying, but more pleased that Kurt had at least one friend he could hold hands with and act like he was no different to everyone else. Kurt almost reached out to take Blaine's hand as well, but he managed to stop himself. It was still too soon. He wasn't going to force his love on Blaine any more than he was going to force love for Blaine on himself.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I haven't ever tried to write Kurtcedes before, so I'm not sure how well that part of the chapter turned out. I'm happy enough to post it, but I know I'm more comfortable in the Klaine zone. I love reading any reviews even if I don't reply, so if you want to leave one, I send you an extra Kliss and maybe a Kluddle. Regardless, thank you for reading!_


	5. Your Touch

_A/N: The second half of this chapter is actually one of the first things I wrote, so this was always part of the plot. I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 4 - Your Touch<br>_

The front door slammed and Kurt heard Burt call out that he was home. He smiled encouragingly at Blaine. "He's really not that bad," he said, attempting to reassure the boy sitting next to him on the couch, who for some reason looked terrified. Mercedes had returned home for 'beauty sleep', shooting Blaine one last probing look before she left, but Blaine nervously fiddled with his shirtsleeves as he asked Kurt if he could stay a little longer. He had said he didn't feel like going home yet, which Kurt could definitely sympathise with.

"Hey, Dad," Kurt called. "We're in here."

Burt tramped into the living room, smiling widely at Kurt before noticing the boy sitting beside him. "Who's this?" His eyes were suddenly narrow, flicking between the two boys. Burt's heart was beating out of chest. This had never happened before.

"Dad, this is Blaine. We met in the grocery store yesterday."

Blaine stood up and shook Burt's hand. Kurt tried to repress the surge of jealousy that came with that gesture; he couldn't envy his own father for being normal.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Hummel."

Burt frowned at him, but returned the handshake. "You too, kid, even though I still have no idea who you are."

Blaine laughed, though Kurt could see he was still nervous. "I'm Blaine Anderson, Mr Hummel. I was shopping when I accidentally cut Kurt with the zip of my jacket. I hope you don't mind, but he told me what he is." He turned to Kurt, looking at him pleadingly.

"You can trust Blaine, Dad." Kurt stood up and walked to his father. "It's okay, we didn't connect. He has controversial views on faerie rights." He shot Blaine a grin, which was returned.

Burt chuckled and clapped his son on the shoulder. "Is that so? Believe in equality, do you, Blaine?"

Perhaps it was due to Mercedes' reaction to him earlier, but Blaine had not been expecting Burt Hummel to be as welcoming as he was. A swift nod from Blaine in reply was all that was required to have him accepted by the man. Blaine didn't know if Burt was still testing him as the conversation continued, but he found himself more relaxed than he could have ever anticipated. When Kurt's stepmother returned, Blaine received the same warm treatment from her and was still not sure what to make of it. There was only one uncomfortable point in the evening and Blaine knew that was self-imposed.

"Beautiful boy like you must have girlfriend, Blaine," Carole said as she placed a plate of food in front of him, ignoring Blaine's protests that he had already eaten.

He paused, his fork hovering above his plate and glanced swiftly at the face of each person. All of them were still smiling at him. "Um, no. No…I'm gay."

"Ah," Carole said, her grin only widening. "Boyfriend, then?"

Blaine's head was reeling. Was this woman real? Kurt had said she had accepted that he was a faerie without hesitation, but did that really extend to Blaine? He shook his head and took a bite of food to hide his confusion. He felt Kurt watching him and let their eyes meet.

"If I were less faerie and more Finn, I'd fist-bump you and say 'join the club,'" Kurt said with a shy grin. "But that's not going to happen. Just know that I do it in spirit."

Other than that moment, Blaine couldn't imagine an evening where he felt more comfortable. Even Finn gave him a high five when he returned home, once he had passed the stage of glaring at him because he had no idea who he was. Eventually, though, Blaine knew he had to go home, no matter how much he'd rather stay where he was.

"Your family are so nice," Blaine said as he leaned against the frame of the front door.

Kurt shrugged. "I love them. But I wouldn't know." He gestured to himself vaguely, a twisted smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes at all. "No experience."

"Trust me," Blaine replied, looking at his feet. "They're better than most."

"Blaine, what do you—?"

"I'll see you soon, okay?" Blaine straightened up and plastered a grin on his face. "I have your number, so be prepared for me to text you."

Kurt laughed, but he was still searching the other boy's face, clearly aware that the conversation had been purposefully diverted. Blaine wasn't sure how a boy who had been locked away from the world could be so perceptive. Although he could have stayed with Kurt for many hours longer, Blaine didn't want to delve into discussions of his own problems at the moment, so he said goodbye quickly.

Kurt watched Blaine jog away from the door with a feeling of dissatisfaction settling in his chest. The Blaine who had just left his house was not the same Blaine that had entered it. This one closed off and not the kind of boy who would cry in front of someone he barely knew. Before Kurt could think more on it, he received a text from Blaine.

_I'm only at my first red light and I can tell this drive is going to be boring. Entertain me? (I told you to be prepared.) –Blaine_

* * *

><p>The next few weeks passed faster than any in Kurt's life. He tutored himself with greater effort, knowing that when he reached the end of his self-imposed school timetable each day, he could text Blaine, or call him, or invite him over. Kurt was rejoicing in having another friend, although he sometimes felt guilty for not talking to Mercedes perhaps as much as he should.<p>

The boys quickly reached the point where they could say anything to each other, from the mundane _I'm bored. Geometry is boring. Kill me?_ _–Blaine_ to the deeper discussions on faerie rights and homophobia. Blaine had been steadily informing Kurt of all the views on being gay that there were in the world and all the ways people reacted to it. In return, Kurt told him more about being what he was. They talked about the shaky laws of the American government, followed by none, banning faeries from being kept in captivity for sexual purposes. Every member of the police force turned a blind eye; politicians were so often the ones with the faeries in their houses that they would never try to enforce the law; the public were deluded, often uncaring about the way faeries were treated because it didn't affect their lives. There had been whispers in the government of the law being overturned completely, but there had so far been nothing more than that. Kurt hoped there never would be, because that would quash all hope of equality for at least the next decade.

Blaine visiting the house became a regular occurrence. He was there every weekend and often after school. He would rave about the new song The Warblers were doing or bang his head against Kurt's wall as he moaned about homework. He would look at Kurt with wide, tear-filled eyes as more was revealed to him about the world he never knew. He would reach out to hug Kurt, or hold his hand, or pat him on the back because that was just the way Blaine connected to people, but he would always remember with a gasp and draw back. After a little over a week, he stopped forgetting not to touch.

That infuriated Kurt. He wanted – no, _needed _to touch Blaine. He wanted to be able to let their friendship progress as it normally would, bumping shoulders together, swatting each other playfully, hugging when they wanted to. Kurt wanted all of those things and even though Mercedes was always there with open arms, he wanted them from Blaine.

Three weeks after the two met, Kurt was indulging in some therapeutic baking in an attempt to drive thoughts of other faeries out of his head. There was a tap on the kitchen door and he turned to find Blaine in the doorway, grinning in a way Kurt could only describe as 'smug'.

"Hey," said the short boy, walking into the room and peering over Kurt's shoulder. "Muffins?" he asked, eyebrows raised in the direction of Kurt's baking.

Kurt rolled his eyes and swatted Blaine's arm instinctively. His friend stiffened and Kurt, realising what he had done, pulled his hand back sharply. After a couple of seconds, they both let out breaths they had been unaware of holding. They hadn't touched skin. Nothing had happened.

"No," Kurt replied, carrying on as though there had been no break in the conversation. "Cupcakes, Blaine. You are so clueless, sometimes."

"Hey," he said, pretending to look hurt while picking up a whisk and gesturing at Kurt with it. "I read Vogue obsessively, I'm in love with Patti and Barbra, and don't even get me started on Broadway. I have enough stereotypical gay things in my life, thank you."

"Oh?" Kurt raised an eyebrow. "So this is a 'who's gayer' game, now?"

"Only if you want it to be," Blaine said, sticking his tongue out and waving the whisk in front of Kurt's face. Kurt reached out to grab it, but Blaine jumped away, expression suddenly serious. Kurt dropped his hand at once. He had to stop being so careless; he and Blaine had now had two near-contact experiences in the past minute.

"Well," he said, plastering a smile on his face that he knew Blaine could see right through. "I will always win, because I'm much more of a faerie than you."

Blaine would normally have laughed, but it was too soon after their hands had almost touched, and he only managed to twitch the corners of his mouth. Kurt turned back to his cupcakes, trying to get away from the awkwardness that had descended.

"About that," Blaine said as Kurt carried the tray to the oven. "That's actually why I'm here."

Kurt didn't react until the cupcakes were safely in the oven. Then he turned towards Blaine and leaned against the counter, a questioning look on his face.

Blaine did grin then, and he reached into the pocket of his jacket, from which he pulled two pairs of gloves.

"Are those for me?" Kurt asked, trying not to laugh. "Because I have a lot of gloves, Blaine."

"I know," the other boy replied, still smiling. "These are more symbolic than fashionable. I don't know why we didn't think of this before." He held one of the pairs out to Kurt. "Put them on."

Kurt took the gloves with a frown, although he was pleased to realise Blaine had at least got him ones made of natural fibres. "Why?"

"Just do it," Blaine said, already slipping his hands into his own pair.

Sometimes, Kurt wondered if Blaine was actually crazy. He did put the gloves on, though, and looked up at the other boy expectantly. "Now what?"

"You are so clueless, sometimes," Blaine teased, mimicking Kurt's earlier statement, causing the other boy to roll his eyes. Kurt became more serious when he realised how nervous Blaine looked. "Hold out your hand," Blaine said, his voice much quieter.

Kurt stopped leaning against the counter and shifted to stand directly in front of his friend. He raised one hand in front of him, still unsure what was about to happen. When Blain began to lift his own hand, however, something clicked in Kurt's head. He caught Blaine's eye and a small smile crept across his face. Blaine's nervousness diminished drastically when he grinned in return. Their hands paused in the air, an inch or two apart, and both boys took a deep breath before pressing their palms, protected by their gloves, against each other.

Kurt let out a shaky laugh and pressed his fingers in the gap between Blaine's. Blaine wrapped his over Kurt's, each resting in a dip between Kurt's knuckles.

"We're holding hands." Kurt was smiling more than he had in years, and Blaine was doing just the same.

"That we are."

They did not let go of each other's hands the whole afternoon, even when Kurt took the cupcakes out of the oven. Getting them out of the tray one-handed caused all number of issues, but every time Blaine tried to pull back so Kurt would have both hands free, Kurt only gripped harder. They started using their joined hands as though they were one, opening the cupboard together, stirring water into the icing sugar while both holding the spoon, and even trying to spread it on a couple of cupcakes together before giving up because they were just getting icing everywhere. They had started off with Kurt's right hand holding Blaine's left, but Kurt, who was doing most of the icing due to his superior skill, decided he needed his most dextrous hand. He took Blaine's other hand, so both their hands were joined between them, before dropping Blaine's left and holding onto his right. He turned them around until he was standing to Blaine's right and looked at Blaine with triumph until he realised Blaine was laughing at him. He just stuck his tongue out and continued to ice cupcakes.

When Burt came home from the garage, he found them on the couch, watching Project Runway. Their gloved hands were joined between them and they were eating cupcakes with their other ones. Burt laughed and clapped Blaine on the shoulder to show his appreciation for what the boy had done before heading into the kitchen to grab a cupcake for himself.

Evening came too quickly for the boys, and soon they were standing by the front door, Kurt inside, Blaine outside, trying to make themselves let go.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" Kurt hoped he didn't sound as pathetic as he felt.

He didn't have to worry, because Blaine was looking at him with that soft expression that made Kurt hope they'd stay friends forever. "Of course." He paused and worried his bottom lip with his teeth before continuing. "I wish I could hug you."

Kurt pressed his lips together, willing himself not to cry. "I know. Me too."

Blaine sighed. "Tomorrow, then?"

"Tomorrow," Kurt said with a nod. They kept their eyes locked for one more second, then pulled their hands apart. Kurt hadn't realised how cold his fingers would be.

Blaine finally turned away and began to head towards his car. Kurt closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh. He traced the index finger of his right hand around the edges of the fingers of his left, still wearing his gloves. For once, Kurt didn't care that they weren't fashionable. As Blaine had said, they were symbolic, and to Kurt that made them more important than anything ever created by Marc Jacobs.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Reviews are like Klaine: no matter what they say, I will always love them._


	6. Sing

_Author's Note: I'm recovering from a camping/expedition extravaganza. Lying in bed is most conducive to writing fic. Thank you so much for all of your reviews/favourites/alerts so far! Every time I get that email, I smile. So, I give you chapter five._ _Why do I get so nervous whenever I post something?_

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 5 - Sing<em>

Blaine grabbed the gloves which were always on his bedside table before leaving the room. He checked he had all his sheet music as he closed the front door behind him. He flicked through the pages, pulling a pencil from his bag to edit one of the backing harmonies, sharpening a couple of notes to brighten the sound. He had to listen more intently than most of the other Warblers because he was on his own; he needed them to keep him in tune. He'd been focusing on the core melody for most of the practices, but the day before he'd tuned in to Trent and Jeff's part and something hadn't sounded quite right. Looking at the notes, he knew what he needed to change. Their tune was just too flat.

Blaine didn't want to say he was obsessed with winning Sectionals, but he knew he wasn't far from it. He was spending almost all of his free time with Kurt, but he was barely sleeping because he was going over the songs in his head at night. Even though talking to Kurt was utterly enthralling, over the past few days Blaine had started to think in two layers: the immediate, vibrant layer that was Kurt and the quieter, stressed layer that was notes and harmonies and perfect beatboxing. He wasn't distracted exactly; his whole mind was just not as concentrated on conversation and the film they were watching and the way Kurt laughed as it normally was. He never tuned out; he simply had slower and less witty responses and perhaps laughed a little too late sometimes. Blaine didn't think Kurt had noticed.

"Blaine, are you even listening to me?"

He had.

Blaine blinked a couple of times before realising Kurt's eyes were trained on his. "Oh, of course. Yes. I don't agree: I think her May 2003 cover was better. She just looked so much fresher, you know?"

Kurt frowned at Blaine, but nodded. The boy was obviously listening, but he had appeared to be so far away. His eyes had fogged over and his grip on Kurt's hand wasn't as tight as normal. This was happening a little too often.

"Blaine, what's wrong?"

Blaine grinned in a way that was hopefully winning. "Nothing."

"Now you're just lying."

He sighed and placed his head in his hands, letting Kurt's fall to the table. He rubbed his face, ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry, Kurt, I'm just thinking about other things. You're not boring, I'm just distracted."

Kurt was relieved Blaine was actually willing to tell him what was going on; he had started to worry about the other boy. He carded his gloved fingers through Blaine's curls gently. "What's distracting you?"

"Sectionals," Blaine said into his hands. "I know it's ridiculous." He lifted his head and smiled as Kurt continued to stroke his hair. "I shouldn't let a competition get to me like this, but it's really important to us." He closed his eyes and leaned into Kurt's hand, allowing himself to relax just a little. He was so tightly wound and even Wes and David hadn't been able to make him feel better; being on the council meant they were possibly more stressed than he was. But the small movement of Kurt's fingers in his hair, the rough material of the gloves scratching a little at his scalp, was more soothing than he had expected. Kurt was bright and excessive and had a tongue that could bite, but he was also soft. To Blaine, he brought a sense of calm and familiarity that he often missed in his life.

"It's not ridiculous," the other boy said, his voice not as sharp as it had been before. "You're forgetting that I live with Finn. And Mercedes practically lives here, anyway. They're both just as crazed as you, if not more. I think it's probably normal. Just tell me these things, okay?"

Blaine hummed his assent and tried to lean more heavily on Kurt's hand. The other boy pulled it back quickly and Blaine had to catch himself, eyes snapping open.

"Sorry," Kurt said, eyes wide. "Your chin. It nearly touched my wrist."

"Don't apologise. I shouldn't have done that."

Kurt's eyes were filling with tears and he pulled his gloves off in frustration, throwing them on the table. He stood up and went to the kitchen island, gripping it hard. "I hate this."

"I know."

"You _don't_. You can't _possibly_ know."

Blaine sighed, picking up Kurt's gloves and carrying them over to the other boy. Kurt stared at them for a second, looking as if he wanted to set them on fire, then grabbed them and pulled them on with a huff.

"Kurt, it's almost as frustrating for me. I obviously haven't felt exactly how you do right now, but I can at least understand it."

Kurt nodded and took Blaine's hand again, leaning heavily against the counter. "How long are we going to do this for?"

"That's completely up to you. I can't make that decision."

There was a pause in which Kurt simply watched Blaine, his eyes seeming to probe deep into Blaine's heart. Then he straightened up. "Get me the sheet music."

"What?"

"Show it to me. Tell me what part of it is bothering you and I can help you figure it out." Kurt held out his hand expectantly and Blaine quickly retrieved the scribble-covered paper and his pencil. If Kurt wasn't ready to think about that, then he would have to accept it. They could push it away for today.

"It's just this part," he said, pointing to one of the lines of music. "I'm not sure if the harmony's quite right."

"Can I try it?" Kurt asked. "If you sing your part, I'll do this and we'll just see what happens."

Blaine very nearly hugged him. This boy always knew exactly the way to fix things. He began his solo, looking right at Kurt as he sang and the other boy joined in, their voices weaving around each other up until the points where they clashed.

"There," Kurt said, pointing at one bar and wincing at the memory of the noise. "That one. Make that sharper."

Blaine amended the notes then raised his eyebrows at Kurt, asking if they should continue. Kurt grinned, picking up just as Blaine did. They didn't stop again; Blaine just crossed out notes or added new ones or changed existing ones as they sang. He almost missed them a couple of times, being wrapped up in listening to Kurt's voice. They'd sung together before, belting out Broadway numbers or Gaga and even, when Blaine was persuasive enough, a bit of Katy Perry in Kurt's bedroom, dancing without getting so close that they might touch, but they had never exactly sung a duet. Although this couldn't exactly be called that, it still felt different to Blaine. Their voices had to work together, ignoring the notes that simply wouldn't fit, and they created a sound Blaine hadn't prepared himself for. They made Kurt's eyes shine a sharp blue that made Blaine's stomach flip.

They reached the last almost-chord, the two notes of which didn't quite match up, and Blaine forgot to scribble on his paper. He was still staring at Kurt's eyes, which hadn't yet faded back into that inexplicable colour they normally were. They were bright blue, so different from the green they turned when Kurt was tired or when he cried. They weren't grey the way they were when he was being sarcastic, or when he was thinking about other's suffering and shaking with anger. They were singing blue and they drew Blaine in. They were intoxicating. He lifted his hand, dropping his pencil, to press it over Kurt's, but the other boy grinned and shook his head, waving his hands in a shooing motion. Blaine realised Kurt wanted him to move back, so he did, letting the other boy take his place.

"If we just change this," Kurt said, picking up the pencil and drawing over the note, completely oblivious to how Blaine was still staring at him, "then it should be perfect." He turned his head and flashed Blaine a bright grin. He at last seemed to notice the boy's dazed state. "Are you alright?"

Blaine nodded slowly, reaching out blindly to take the music, still watching Kurt's eyes. They were returning to comfortable glasz now, but were just as alive as they had been moments ago. Kurt had to straighten up quickly so that Blaine wouldn't grab his hand instead of the paper. Blaine's shirtsleeve had been pulled up when he extended his arm and there was too much wrist exposed for that action to be safe.

"Yeah," Blaine said. "It's just…" He looked away from Kurt at last, down to the pages in his hands. He fanned them out, taking in each little edit. He cleared his throat. "It's never sounded like that before."

"What, in tune?"

Blaine shook himself just the tiniest bit before grinning at the other boy. "Oh, shut up. But," he said, reaching out a hand and taking Kurt's. "Thank you for helping me."

Kurt shrugged. "It's the least I can do. At least it makes life more interesting. And I get to hear you sing, Blaine Warbler." He smirked at Blaine and squeezed his hand.

"What do I have to do to get you to stop calling me that?"

* * *

><p>Kurt sat on the bed to watch Blaine unroll the tape measure. The shorter boy had to do more complete measurements of himself so Kurt would actually be able to make him clothes. Kurt wanted to do it – his inner control freak didn't trust Blaine – but he couldn't. They would be too close. There would be hands near faces and knuckles near skin. It would never work.<p>

"You never did tell me what you were doing that day."

"Hmm?" Blaine asked as he wrapped the tape around his hips, checking the number and calling it out to Kurt, who noted it in his work pad.

"The day we met. You said you don't normally shop at seven on Sundays."

"Oh, right." Blaine continued to look down at his legs, measuring the length of his thigh and avoiding Kurt's gaze. "I was avoiding my dad." He read the figure off to Kurt, who said nothing, waiting for Blaine to elaborate. He continued, speaking slowly as if he had to force himself to say the words. "Things can just get a little awkward in my house. My dad's not altogether thrilled with me being gay and conversation is…stilted. He gives me these looks sometimes and I just…I didn't want to be there right then. I don't know why I decided to buy apples, but…" He looked up at Kurt. "I'm glad I did."

Kurt put down his pad and pen and walked towards Blaine. He cupped Blaine's cheeks with his hands, the fabric of his gloves warm against Blaine's skin. "Why must you always make it so hard not to hug you?"

Blaine laughed, trying to ignore the way he wanted to lean his face closer to Kurt's. This was exactly the boy he couldn't feel that way about. He couldn't want that from Kurt when Kurt may be physically unable to return it. He would be just like every other cruel person who used faeries if he tried to force himself on the boy in front of him. They would most likely connect as friends and Blaine would be left in a situation he didn't think he could handle. Of all the boys in the world, Kurt was the one that Blaine could _not_ fall for.

"I guess," he said, keeping his eyes fixed just above Kurt's eyes, firmly away from his mouth, "I'm just that loveable?" He tried for a cheeky grin and seemed to succeed, judging by Kurt's chuckle. "Seriously, though, let me finish measuring myself before I do something stupid like throw my arms around you, okay?"

Kurt sighed and dropped his hands from Blaine's face. He sat heavily on the bed and let Blaine continue. "That shouldn't be stupid. Affection shouldn't be stupid or careless. It should just be able to happen."

Blaine bit his bottom lip as he leaned down, measuring between his knee and his ankle. "I didn't mean to upset you. I don't mean that showing affection for you is stupid, it's just this—"

"Blaine, I get it. Let's just…move on. We've had this conversation too many times today." Kurt watched Blaine pull the tape measure taught, trying to ignore all the ways he wanted to show this boy how much their friendship meant to him. He tried to forget how many hugs he wanted to give, how many fist-bumps he wished he could roll his eyes at, how many playfully reprimanding swats he longed to exchange. He had to distract both of them. "Would it be insensitive to say 'tell me about your daddy issues'?"

Blaine laughed and straightened up, throwing the tape measure at Kurt, who caught it before it hit him in the face. "It depends which ones you're asking about."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I would love your feedback on this chapter! You can leave me a review or drop something in my ask box on tumblr: anything at all will make me happy. I loved writing this one, so I hope you enjoyed reading it._


	7. I Want To Hold Your Hand

_Author's Note: _I had most of this written already, which is why I am able to update so quickly. This chapter is the most important to me yet.__

* * *

><p><em><em>Chapter 6 - I Want To Hold Your Hand<br>__

"I don't think I can stand it any more, Mercedes," Kurt moaned flopping dramatically onto his bed. Mercedes crawled up next to him.

"You two have barely been friends two months, Kurt."

"But that's why it's so upsetting. I feel so close to him already, like we've already connected, and I can't _do_ anything. I can't do this with him." He turned his head to look at Mercedes, who was sitting beside him, gently stroking his hair.

Mercedes was trying to be nicer to Blaine. The boy seemed to have proved that he wasn't secretly trying to hurt Kurt, but she was still wary. Mercedes always harboured some small portion of guilt for letting Kurt take her hand that day in the park. It had changed the way she reacted to those around her: she was more careful with her emotions, rarely letting people see past her diva attitude. Physical contact was not something she took lightly. Although brushing hands with someone in the hallway had no effect on her, she was much less tactile than she may have been if she had never met Kurt. She had seen what touch did to a relationship, faerie or not. Although she could tell Blaine was a good person, she was not about to throw herself into a friendship. She also had the sense that Kurt wanted this relationship for himself for a little while. Kurt had never been able to have a friend of his own, all to himself, unshared with those around him. Mercedes had been practically adopted by his father; Carole was his father's wife; Finn had known Mercedes before he knew Kurt, not to mention he was Carole's son. Everyone was interlinked except Blaine. That boy was Kurt's and Kurt's alone and Mercedes did not want to disturb that.

She sighed and leaned down to press a kiss to Kurt's cheek. "I don't want to change your decision in any way, Kurt. You know that." She received a nod in return. "But you also know that the only way to fix this is to connect to him. If it's too soon, that's fine, but just now you were saying it feels as if you have already. _I _think," she said, pulling on his ear gently, "that that tells you something."

Kurt hid his face against her leg. "For once, I think you might be right."

"For once? Boy, do _not_ think you can get away with that just because you're sad right now," she said, laughing as she slapped the back of his head.

Kurt giggled and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist, pulling her down to lie beside him. "Love you, 'Cedes."

"Love you more."

"Love you most."

It was silly and clichéd, but it was their thing. They'd said it since they were little children and would probably never stop. Kurt wiggled even closer to her and she locked her arms behind his back.

"How do I do it, Mercedes? You can't exactly go up to someone and say 'I'd like to attach myself to you emotionally. Take my hand at seven o'clock.'"

She laughed into his coiffed hair. "Make it special. It should be just as important to him as it is to you."

"But I have _no idea_ how to make something special. I never do that. I don't…have anyone to do that for."

She pushed his head back to look him in the eye. "Kurt, you make us have a friendship anniversary every year. You pamper me and cook for me and we celebrate the moment we first shook hands. Do you not think that's special?"

"I-is that the same thing?"

She kissed his forehead, which was an action she was not often able to keep him still for. "Of course. You know how to do this, Kurt. You're just letting your head get the better of you. What does Blaine like?"

Kurt groaned and curled into her again. "He's a person. He likes lots of things."

"What do you have in common?"

"Everything."

"Kurt, come on, at least try. Do you want to connect to this boy or not?"

Kurt pulled away from her, sitting up on the bed and wrapping his arms around his knees. His eyes were wide as he stared at Mercedes. "I'm actually going to do this, aren't I?"

"Kurt, you don't have to."

He waved his hand impatiently. "I know that. But I'm going to do this. I can't…Why am I so nervous?"

She moved closer to him, putting an arm around his back. "I don't think you'd be human if you weren't."

* * *

><p><em>Blaine grabbed one of Kurt's pillows before he clambered onto the bed. He pulled it close to his chest and watched the other boy carefully pack away his needles and thread. It was only the fifth time they'd met and Blaine had arrived at Kurt's earlier than he had predicted. The other boy had still been engaged in embroidering a jacket.<em>

_Kurt placed the last needle in its correct place – they were arranged by type, then size order within that – and joined Blaine on the bed, crossing his knees._

"_You made this, right?" Blaine asked, pointing at the waistcoat Kurt was wearing._

"_Of course," Kurt replied, although he was trying not to blush. This boy was so enthusiastic about everything._

"_It's so clever. I love this detail," Blaine said, reaching out to trace across a piece of embroidery on Kurt's shoulder._

"_Don't!" Kurt scrambled backwards._

_Blaine pulled his hand in to his chest. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't know that would…I didn't think…"_

"_It's okay," Kurt said, breathing a little more evenly. "You just need to be careful, alright? A touch of the fingertips is all it takes."_

_Blaine nodded solemnly, shrinking back into the headboard. "I'll work on that. Although I must say," he continued, grinning a little now that the panic had passed, "you make it sound sort of romantic with the whole fingertips thing."_

* * *

><p>Blaine sighed, spreading out his arms and legs on his bed, letting himself stretch like a starfish across it. Sectionals were done. The Warblers had tied. Blaine knew they should have done better, should have won outright, but he was happy for what they had. He was just glad there would be some respite before Regionals in which he could spend time with Kurt without his double-layered thought process.<p>

But that was the problem. Spending time with Kurt was so hard for Blaine. He now realised how much he had taken touch for granted; he had never truly appreciated the way it could change things. He had always known he was tactile, but he hadn't known how much he relied on that sense. Not touching Kurt was nearly impossible and it only got harder with every bit closer they grew. Blaine had briefly considered staying away from Kurt for a few days to make it easier for them, but he had pushed that thought away almost at once. That would just hurt the other boy. Kurt would think Blaine didn't want to see him any more.

His phone buzzed on his bedside table and he broke his starfish pose to answer it. As he had expected, it was Kurt.

"Blaine, can you come over today?"

Blaine grinned, sitting up at once. He had never known anyone to be as abrupt as Kurt was on the phone. The boy barely ever said hello, choosing to launch straight into conversation instead.

"Yeah. I'm actually doing nothing right now. I was about to call you and beg you to have me over."

"You don't need to beg," Kurt replied and Blaine could hear the smile in his voice, even down the phone line.

"Good to know. Should I come now?"

"As quickly as you can. I…have something really important for you."

* * *

><p>Kurt pulled Blaine into the kitchen as soon as he arrived. He pushed carefully on the shorter boy's shoulders, making him sit in one of the chairs, then stood opposite him, the table between them. He pulled off his gloves and placed them gently on the wood, smoothing them out as he tried to control his breathing.<p>

"Kurt, what's going on?"

Kurt lifted his hand to his hair, trying to push back a nonexistent flyaway strand. "You know how we sang together before?"

"Yeah, that was…amazing." Blaine blushed a little, still trying to catch Kurt's eye.

"Well, I want to sing to you. I know we've never done that before and I know it's probably disgustingly cheesy, but this song is really important to me. T-to us." Kurt looked up from the table to find Blaine watching him with an encouraging expression.

"Ok. I promise I won't laugh if that's what you're afraid of."

Kurt smiled a little. "No, that's not the problem. Just…listen." Kurt bit his lip, gripping his elbows with hands before dropping his arms to his sides quickly. He needed to look confident. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stare straight into Blaine's eyes, and sang. "_Yeah, I'll tell you something_," he began, willing his voice to stay strong.

Kurt watched Blaine's eyes widen in recognition. He tried to smile, but he knew it didn't come out right. He was sure he was going to start shaking, but he pushed himself to carry on. Blaine didn't seem to quite get what Kurt was trying to say until that one line: _I want to hold your hand._

Blaine sat up a little straighter, gripping the sides of his chair tightly. _I want to hold your hand_. This version was slower than the original, but Blaine wasn't thinking about that.

_And when I touch you I feel happy inside  
>It's such a feeling that my love<br>I can't hide, I can't hide, I can't hide_

Kurt's voice grew as he sang. He allowed himself to perform a little, gesturing between himself and Blaine – _Yeah, you got that something_ – and raising his arms as the song reached its climax. He didn't know how he wasn't crying, but he managed to finish the song, never letting go of their eye contact, his voice just not breaking on the last note.

"_I want to hold your hand._"

Blaine continued to stare at Kurt, whose eyes had become piercing as he sang, daring Blaine to tell him that he shouldn't be doing this. There were a few seconds after the song ended in which Blaine could only hear Kurt's breathing, a little heavy from the exertion on his lungs.

"You're my best friend, Blaine," Kurt said, his voice breaking. "I want…I want you to touch me."

"Kurt…you know what this will do. Are you—?"

"Don't ask me if I'm sure. Of course I'm sure!" He braced his un-gloved hands on the table, just a few inches from Blaine's own. "We've formed a friendship without the help of my stupid body. When our skin touches, nothing should change." _Unless I fall in love with you. _"I feel the same level of love for you as I do for Mercedes. Everything will stay the same."

"Kurt…I want you to know that I won't just leave you once you're attached to me. I know what that would do to you and I know you can't help—"

"Blaine." Kurt's eyes were softer, his expression full of love for this awkward human being. "I trust you. You haven't left me yet and we are already as good friends as we're going to become. If you left me now, you would hurt me just as much."

Kurt couldn't remind Blaine that he might start to love him romantically. Blaine would want that to be something Kurt did of his own volition; he would never let their skin even come close to touching. And Kurt needed that. His family and Mercedes were wonderful, but he needed human contact outside of those few people. He needed contact with _Blaine_. He was infuriated by having to cover every inch of his body just so they could have a conversation without accidentally connecting. He wanted to know whether Blaine was a warm person, whether his skin was soft, how his fingers would feel slotted between Kurt's without the scratch of fabric. He needed to touch Blaine properly.

There was only a chance that Kurt would fall in love, and he was willing to risk it.

Blaine nodded, bringing Kurt back to the present. "Okay," he said, and then he smiled at the other boy, looking nervous but exhilarated. He pulled off his gloves and the movement seemed painfully slow to Kurt.

"So," Blaine continued, his voice quiet, like he didn't want to disturb the moment. "A touch of the fingertips?"

Kurt laughed softly and nodded. "A touch of the fingertips."

Blaine raised his right hand and Kurt, his left. They realised both were shaking and for a second their eyes connected and they let out breathy laughs. Then their eyes flicked back to their hands, only a centimetre away from each other.

They moved simultaneously and pressed their fingertips together.

A surge of warmth and raw power shot from the points where they touched, up Kurt's arm and into the rest of his body. He closed his eyes as the force travelled through every vein, permeating every cell. His body felt lighter, warmer, more complete.

He shuddered as it reached every part of him and at last opened his eyes. Blaine was in front of him, their fingertips still barely pressed against each other, with a smile on his face.

And that was when Kurt knew. He was in love with this boy.

His eyes began to fill with tears and Blaine's eyes widened. He reached out and pulled Kurt into a tight hug, stroking the back of his head.

"Ssh," he said. "It's okay. I'm still here, we're still here."

Kurt cried harder. He had wanted Blaine to hold him like this for so long, but he had not been expecting to feel this way. He loved Blaine, not as a friend, but as a lover. His touch made him shiver; his scent enveloped him and made him feel dizzy.

He hated it. He had waited so long to feel connected to another human being, connected to Blaine, and a cruel trick of nature had ruined this moment.

He knew then that he could not tell Blaine. He had to continue as though they were still just friends, as though nothing had changed. Blaine would never forgive himself for touching Kurt and forcing love upon him – as he would see it – and Kurt loved Blaine too much to cause him any pain.

So he clutched at the back of Blaine's jacket, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him closer. He tried to relish the feeling of being held and rested his head in the crook of Blaine's neck, as he had imagined for so long.

"I love you," he whispered against Blaine's skin.

"I love you, too," Blaine replied, his face buried in Kurt's hair.

Kurt wished Blaine knew what he really meant.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: So. There you have it. The very first part of this story that I ever wrote, starting from the moment Kurt finished singing. I wrote an idea summary (which I can post on tumblr if anyone wants it - 100% spoiler free if you're here already) and then this. And that's how this story began.<em>


	8. Again Again

_Author's Note: The response to the last chapter was lovely, thank you all so much. I'm off on a crazy trip across the world tomorrow, so won't be home for the next five weeks or so. I don't know how regular updates will be, or if there will be updates at all, although I really don't want the latter to be the case. That's why I decided to forgo packing tonight and finish this chapter. Love to you all, with potential extra love if I can't update. *Hands over chapter*_

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 7 - Again Again<em>

Blaine trailed his fingertips across the back of Kurt's palm, walking them around his wrist and up the inside. Kurt turned his arm over to allow Blaine to stroke up the veins there.

"This is amazing," Blaine whispered, staring at his fingers on Kurt's arm, "just being able to touch you like this. I never thought that something so simple could be so…" He trailed off, walking his fingers up to the crease of Kurt's elbow and sliding them back down to the heel of his palm again.

Kurt couldn't trust himself to reply: all that would come out would be a moan and Blaine could not hear that. He had thought he would be able to control himself around the other boy, to not reveal the emotions touching their fingertips together had ignited in him, but it seemed like his whole body was an erogenous zone when Blaine's hands were involved. His friend was just enthralled by being able to be close to Kurt without holding back, but Kurt found that not touching Blaine was even harder now. Because now, he didn't just want fingertips on his wrist. He wanted them _everywhere_ and it was driving him almost to breaking point. He had to pull his arm back on the pretence of taking Blaine's hand because the teasing brushes of the other boy's fingers were pushing him dangerously close to doing something stupid like kissing him or climbing into his lap and doing wicked things to him.

Kurt had never considered himself a sexual being, but Blaine had changed many things about his life. This, apparently, was just another addition to a long list.

"We should probably go downstairs," Kurt said, proud of how steady his voice was. "Now that we can do…this, my dad might start being suspicious and protective and threatening you with his shotgun." _I wish he had a valid reason._

Blaine laughed and pulled Kurt off the bed. This definitely helped clear Kurt's head: beds and Blaine were no longer things that could be close to each other if Kurt wanted to think with any form of clarity. Maybe faeries _were_ more lustful than other humans? He'd never really considered it, but wanting Blaine so much in such a carnal way could not be normal.

He had to pull his mind back to the present and totally unsexy things like his father being in the same room as them.

"Hey," Burt said, smiling at them from the kitchen table. His eyes flickered down to their joined hands and his smile grew. Kurt knew Burt would not be so happy Kurt had someone else in his life if he knew the thoughts that ran through his son's head about that particular person. It had been difficult for Kurt not to tell his father the truth, but he had known the reaction could only have been bad, so he had decided not to.

"Hey, dad. Where's Carole?"

"She dragged Finn out shopping. Something about him not being able to live in the same pair of jeans for the rest of his life."

"At least one of the Hudson family has some sense of acceptable clothing," Kurt muttered, dragging Blaine towards the counter and beginning to make coffee one-handed. He had held hands with Blaine before, but it had never felt like this and he didn't want to let go if he didn't have to. Blaine's skin was warm, just as Kurt had imagined, but his fingertips were rougher than anticipated. Blaine explained it was from playing the guitar and Kurt had nodded vaguely, still enthralled by the way they had felt against his skin the first time he had noticed. They were oddly smooth, but the skin was not as soft as that on the backs of Blaine's hands.

Kurt noticed his father leave the room and looked at Blaine with a frown. "Where's he going?"

Blaine laughed at him and nudged Kurt's shoulder with his own. "Did you not listen to anything he just said?"

"Um…" _No. I was thinking about your hands and all the things you could do with them. Because I'm creepy like that._

Blaine laughed again and leaned in. Kurt's breath hitched, but Blaine just bumped his nose against Kurt's cheek, almost like he was nuzzling him. Kurt supposed it was sweet, but he was a little too focused on just how close Blaine's lips were to his own.

He turned his head away before he let his body get the better of him and poured the coffee into two cups.

"He's gone to the bar. A couple of his friends are watching a game there. He did seem kind of confused when you didn't say goodbye to him, you know."

Kurt knew exactly what grin Blaine would be wearing and endeavoured to not look at him: that grin had a dangerous effect on him. "He should be used to me tuning out of sporting conversations by now." He paused for a second, then carefully pulled his hand away from Blaine's.

"Hey, no, what are you doing?" Blaine grabbed his hand again with an adorable pout on his face.

"I was going to carry the coffee to the table, but apparently I can't do that. I have a puppy attached to me that's making it kind of difficult."

Blaine rested his forehead on Kurt's shoulder and let out a half-laugh. "I can carry my own cup. And you're offensive."

Kurt managed to live through a whole cup of coffee with Blaine sitting next to him at the table, bumping their knees together just because he could, regardless of how on edge it made Kurt. Unfortunately, Blaine was much attuned to the nuances of Kurt's emotions.

"Kurt, I know it's hard to realign the way we act now, but you have to relax. I can do this," he cupped Kurt's cheek with his hand, "and it's absolutely fine. It's better than fine. It's fantastic and you have to calm down. We've moved past the no-touching stage. And," Blaine said, leaning closer and raising his eyebrows in a way that shouldn't have been as attractive to Kurt as it was, "you should know that I am _very_ tactile. I'm basically going to be stuck to you."

Kurt had to giggle at that. He hadn't really let himself enjoy this yet. He'd been caught up in this rush of sensation and he realised that Blaine was right: he needed to calm down; he needed to appreciate this.

He pulled Blaine's hand from his cheek, flipping it over to bare the wrist. "Okay." He danced his fingers up the tendons, brushing over the miniscule bumps of Blaine's veins. Kurt heard Blaine gasp and looked up at him curiously.

"It's just," Blaine said, "so strange. I didn't know it could feel like this."

Kurt tried not to be disappointed as he smiled at the other boy. He had to stop letting himself hope that Blaine was being affected by this the same way he was. He had to stop wishing that Blaine _wanted_ him. He knew he was getting too caught up the lustful emotions and not allowing himself to explore the other ways in which his love for Blaine had been edited. He couldn't be sure, because of the change in its inherent nature, whether the depth with which he loved Blaine had been increased. He did know that the new emotions were much more painful, ripping at Kurt in ways he didn't know love could. They say that love hurts, but he had never believed that until now. He felt like his heart had been laid open and handed to Blaine, all without the boy even noticing. Perhaps it was because he was still stuck in the afterglow of the connection, but Kurt noticed that an even greater proportion of his thoughts were geared towards that one boy. Before, he had been able to divide his mind into vaguely equal sections, but now Blaine had taken over almost all of it. Everything in Kurt's life was centred around Blaine.

"Your hands are really soft," said Blaine. He looked away from Kurt, an embarrassed smile on his face. "I sort of expected that, but it's…it's nice."

"You have these," Kurt said, pressing his fingertips into the calluses on Blaine's. "I've never encountered them physically before. No-one I knows plays guitar, you see, and they're…well, they're really odd." He laughed a little and brought Blaine's fingertips to his cheek, brushing them down it gently and letting himself revel in the unfamiliar texture. "I like it. I'll always be able to tell your hands apart now."

Blaine nodded, staring at his fingertips against Kurt's skin. "I never notice because I'm so used to them. But then, your cheek. It's not as harsh as mine. Your stubble, you know? It's softer. Look." He took both of Kurt's hands and pressed one to his cheek, one to Kurt's own.

Kurt dragged his fingertips down both, noting how Blaine's scratched at his skin in a way that made him have to suppress a shudder of pleasure. "I see. I feel it. I…I don't think I've ever felt someone else's stubble before. God, this is _weird_."

Blaine laughed and dropped Kurt's hands. "It is, isn't it?" He took a sip of his coffee, not taking his eyes off Kurt. "I don't even care if you like hugs. You're getting them."

Kurt drank some of his own coffee to hide his expression. He remembered embracing Blaine for the first time the day before. He didn't know if he could repeat that experience. It had been so hard not to kiss Blaine's neck, wrap his arms around his waist and lick the shell of his ear. If Kurt had to survive that multiple times a day, he wasn't sure how long it would be before he snapped. However, he knew it would be worse for him if he tried to stay away from Blaine. From the moment they'd touched, the two of them had stayed as close as possible to each other when together. Blaine had wanted to stay over, but Kurt had forced him to go home, insisting that he had school the next day and he could come over after. In reality, Kurt wanted to say yes and keep Blaine with him forever. There was just the problem that Blaine would have slept in his bed, which his father would have allowed because he thought Kurt had connected to him as a friend. And Kurt could not have Blaine in his bed. He was not that strong.

Blaine tilted his head at Kurt, wordlessly asking why the other boy was looking so distant again. Kurt blinked a couple of times, washing images of Blaine and his bed out of his eyes.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "It gets a bit overwhelming sometimes." He couldn't tell Blaine what was on his mind, but he could at least give him half-truths. "I keep remembering that I'm connected to you forever. I will love you for the rest of my life." _I will be _in_ love with you for the rest of my life_, he amended internally. "That's…kind of crazy. I'll be a hundred years old and still thinking of you as my…as my best friend." He'd broken into full-blown lies by this point. He had avoided mentioning the word 'friend' around Blaine so far in the hope of evading the emotions it created within him. He was worried that every time he said it, he was pulling himself further away from the chance of ever being with Blaine the way he longed to be.

"It _is_ crazy," Blaine said, leaning closer again. He took both of Kurt's hands and pulled them to his chest. "But in the best way possible. You just know what your future is like. You know you'll always have people to love you and I think that's what most people long to be sure of. In that way, I think you're really lucky."

Kurt knew Blaine's words should make him feel elated, but they scratched at fears he had only recently started to have. "I don't know that I'll always have people to love me. I know I will always love them, but I don't have any control over their emotions for me."

"Kurt, don't say that. Your family love you too much to ever leave you. Mercedes? Mercedes depends on you being there. I can tell how important you are to her and I barely know her. And me? I've already told you I'm here to stay."

Kurt disentangled his hands from Blaine's so he could wrap his arms around the other boy. He pulled Blaine into a tight embrace, closing his eyes and pressing his face into Blaine's hair. He let himself breathe in the scent of the other boy, allowed it to comfort him. He held Blaine longer than he ever had before, trying to silence the thoughts that told him Blaine could never be sure of how he would feel in the future, that Blaine probably would not think the same way if he knew Kurt's true emotions.

Blaine put a hand on the back of Kurt's head, holding him close. He nearly pressed a kiss to the other boy's cheek, but the echo of Kurt's 'best friend' in his ears stopped him.


	9. Baby, It's Cold Outside

_Author's Note: So guess who has internet? I'm a bit rushed, so here is the not-as-wonderful-as-I-wish-it-could-be-but-hopefully-you-still-like-it chapter._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 8 - Baby, It's Cold Outside<em>

Blaine dumped a box over-brimming with tinsel and fairy lights onto the floor, smiling proudly at Kurt.

"Blaine, where did you get those?"

The other boy shrugged, a ridiculously excited look on his face. "The cupboard upstairs. I saw that you hadn't decorated your tree yet," he gestured at the bare Christmas tree by the window, "and I thought I'd help."

Kurt stood up off the couch slowly, speaking gently so as not to hurt the boy's feelings. "Blaine, it's not decorated because I haven't decided on the colour scheme yet. Those are Carole's decorations. They're all mismatched. But," he continued hurriedly when Blaine's face fell, "you can help me buy this year's decorations if you like."

"And help decorate?"

"Well, I usually do that with my dad—"

"Oh," Blaine interrupted, grinning again. "Your dad saw me getting these. He said we could go ahead and cover the tree. But he warned me you can be really controlling about these things, so…"

Kurt glared at him.

"Oh, come on, Kurt. _Please_."

Kurt laughed, walking around the back of the couch, getting as far away as he could from Blaine because the other boy was pouting in a way that brought Kurt dangerously close to kissing him. Blaine simply knelt against the couch, leaning over it, pouting all the while. Kurt instinctively brought his face closer to the other boy's.

"Please, Kurt. We only get a fake tree at home and it isn't the same."

Kurt watched Blaine plead with his eyes for a second before straightening up. "Fine. Even though this goes against everything I believe in, we will use Carole's tacky ornaments and decorate this tree. Happy?"

Blaine stretched over the back of the couch to pull Kurt into his arms. "Very. So, tinsel or baubles first?"

"Blaine, were you raised in a cave? Lights first."

Kurt had to admit, decorating with Blaine was much more fun than with his father. Kurt would get frustrated that Burt was not hanging the ornaments correctly and Burt would get upset that he was doing the wrong thing. They'd end up snapping at each other and Kurt would finish the tree on his own. But with Blaine, there were no fights. They strung fairy lights together, the backs of their hands brushing against each other. Kurt let Blaine do the tinsel, preferring to watch the way the light reflected off the garish decoration, making Blaine's eyes sparkle.

They hung baubles together, occasionally catching each other's gaze and grinning. Kurt was glad the fairy lights gave off a glow warm enough to hide his blush.

Blaine pulled a small cardboard box from under a pile of reindeer ornaments which Kurt had categorically refused to be allowed near his Christmas tree, regardless of how tacky it was already. He pulled off the lid, worn at the edges, and smiled at what was inside.

"Who gets to put the angel on the top?"

Kurt looked up from where he was hanging his last bauble and took in Blaine's reverent expression. "Why do I feel like this is some sort of ceremony to you?"

"It is. In my house, the tallest does it, so it's always my dad. I'm guessing those rules don't apply here."

Kurt shook his head at Blaine. "Your family is strange. We'll both do it, okay?"

He pulled a chair in from the kitchen for them to stand on and placed it in front of the tree. He held out a hand to Blaine once he had climbed up, pulling the other boy up after him. Kurt immediately wanted to take that action back. Blaine had to stand very close to Kurt on the chair, their hips bumping against each other, knees knocking together if they twisted too far. He reached up a hand, holding the angel, and turned his head to look at Kurt. The other boy was so distracted by the way he could feel Blaine's breath on his lips that it took him longer than it should have to respond. Lethargically, trying to stop his eyes from becoming hooded from Blaine's scent enveloping him, he stretched out his own arm. He curled his fingers around the angel, slotting them between Blaine's and allowing the other boy to guide their hands to the top of the tree. Blaine looked away then, positioning the ornament while Kurt continued to stare at him, eyes tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his ear, the bones of his cheek. In his mind, Kurt's lips followed the path of his eyes.

By lifting their arms, they had pressed the sides of their chests against each other. Kurt could feel every expansion of Blaine's chest against his own, ribs pressing together. The warmth of Blaine's skin permeated through his jumper and Kurt's, right into the other boy's. Kurt could only imagine how hot Blaine's skin really was, without the layers separating them. He unconsciously pressed himself tighter against Blaine, trying to reach more of his heat. Blaine smelled like Christmas and that smell Kurt had come to associate with Dalton. It seemed to be infused in the other boy's uniform and lingered on Blaine's skin even when he had removed it, like now. Kurt knew that if he could rest his nose against Blaine's neck, he would be able to figure out the undertones of that scent and maybe catch that one that was only Blaine.

Blaine slotted the angel into place with a noise of triumph. He pulled his arm back, and took Kurt's hand. He placed it around his waist and hugged the other boy, right there on the tiny chair. They were standing so close that this hug was tighter than any they had shared. Their legs slotted between each other and one of Kurt's hipbones was pushing against Blaine's stomach. Kurt let Blaine pull him in, tightening his fingers in the back of Blaine's jumper, pressing them into the skin beneath it.

Blaine acted on impulse, curling the fingers of one hand into Kurt's hair. He was risking Kurt yelling at him for messing it up, but he didn't exactly think the action through. Besides, Kurt said nothing, but let Blaine tilt his head into the crook of the shorter boy's neck. Blaine ignored the goosebumps that formed at the sensation of Kurt's breath against his skin.

"I love you," he said, holding Kurt even tighter. Suddenly, Kurt was pulling himself out of Blaine's grip, stepping off the chair and starting to tidy up.

"You're being particularly friendly today," he said, not looking at Blaine as he threw excess tinsel back into the box.

"Well, like I said, I love you," Blaine replied, grabbing a broom from the cupboard off the kitchen to sweep up fallen pine needles, tinsel strands and glitter. "Don't you love me?" he said as he returned.

"Of course I do." Kurt still wasn't looking at Blaine. He was pushing baubles back into a box almost savagely.

"Kurt." Blaine poked his friend's back with the broom handle. Kurt slapped it away and placed the last spare ornament back in the box. "Kurt," Blaine repeated. "Are you okay?"

"I'm perfect, Blaine." He picked up the box and smiled over his shoulder briefly before heading towards the stairs. "It's Christmas. Why wouldn't I be?"

* * *

><p>Blaine ran his finger along the row of CDs, enjoying the way they clicked under the sliding pressure. He paused over a Christmas album, then pulled it off the shelf and flipped it over, examining the songs listed there.<p>

"Favourite Christmas song?" he called to Kurt, who was at his desk, sewing machine whirring as he put together a jacket in Blaine's measurements.

"Guess."

"Well." He placed one arm on either side of the boy, holding the CD on the desk in front of him. "Is it on here?"

Kurt turned the machine off to look at the CD Blaine was holding. "Yes."

"Okay." Blaine probably should have pulled his arms back and looked at the CD as he paced around the room, but he didn't. He leaned further over the chair, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder, tightening his arms around the other boy's shoulders. "Jingle Bell Rock?"

"Blaine, please tell me that wasn't a real guess."

Blaine snorted and buried his face in Kurt's shoulder briefly. "No, sorry."

He could see Kurt's smile from how he was leaning against him. Kurt gripped Blaine's arms, pulling them around him so he was hugging him properly, making the other boy drop the CD onto the desk. "Good. You have three guesses." He leaned his head back so he could look Blaine in the eye. "_Serious_ ones."

"_Baby, It's Cold Outside_."

"You sound very sure."

"I am." Blaine tightened his arms around Kurt, rocking them a little from side to side. "I know you."

Kurt let his grin break out and snuggled backwards into Blaine's chest. "You're right. It's kind of flattering."

"There's a reason you're my best friend."

Kurt didn't reply, but Blaine could have sworn he heard a small sigh come from the boy in his arms.

"Sing it with me?" he said. He smiled, curling into Kurt a little more. He loved singing with the other boy and he had a feeling this would be the perfect duet for them.

"No."

"What? Kurt, it's your favourite Christmas song. I'm giving you the chance to duet here." He pulled Kurt closer, but just like earlier, Kurt forced his way out of Blaine's arms.

"No," he repeated.

Blaine huffed and sat back on the bed as Kurt stood up, starting to put away his sewing machine.

"Kurt, what's going on?"

Kurt extricated his fabric from the machine with less reverence than Blaine would have ever expected. "Nothing. I just don't feel like singing a date rape song with my best friend, okay?"

Blaine sighed and pushed himself off the bed again, coming up behind Kurt and stilling his hands. "Kurt, please. Tell me what's going on. Is it Finn? Did you guys fight again?"

Kurt's shoulders slumped a little. "No." He walked to the bed, allowing Blaine to keep hold of one of his hands as they sat down. Blaine didn't say anything, simply waiting for Kurt to elaborate. Kurt looked him straight in the eye and Blaine couldn't help but feel he was being tested in some way. He watched the other boy's unfathomable eyes as they stared into him, wanting an answer when he didn't know the question. Kurt bit his lip, stroking a thumb over Blaine's knuckles.

"I want…I want someone to love me."

"What do you mean? You know that I—"

"I want someone to be _in_ love with me." Kurt looked away again and Blaine could see the blush rising in his cheeks.

Blaine wanted to tell Kurt that someone was, or someone would be very soon if he kept being exactly the way he was, but he couldn't. Kurt was his friend. He loved Blaine like a best friend or a brother. He wouldn't be telling him this if he didn't. It was for that reason that Blaine stopped himself, that he forced himself not to press his lips to Kurt's cheek or forehead, that he made himself look at boys who worked at the GAP. It was a self-preservation thing. It stopped him from getting in too deep and ending up heartbroken.

"One day, Kurt, someone will be. Trust me, okay?" He squeezed Kurt's hand. "I know firsthand that you're easy to love. You just have to find the right person."

"You know it isn't that easy, Blaine. I don't just _find_ people."

Blaine lifted their joined hands and tilted Kurt's chin up, making him look him in the eye. Kurt's eyes were a soft green; a colour Blaine knew was tinged with sadness. He wanted to kiss away the tears forming in the corners, but he knew that he could not. He could only comfort Kurt as a friend would, could only love him that much.

"You found me."


	10. Silly Love Songs

_Author's Note: I have an unprecedented amount of internet access. Yay! Thank you to everyone who wished me a good time on my trip. Actually, thank you to everyone who commented, read, anything. You're far too wonderful to me. This is another one of those chapters I've had mostly written for a while. Love to you all. (Australia's awesome, by the way.)_

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 9 - Silly Love Songs<em>

Kurt adjusted the couch cushions, straightened the throw and made sure the cookies were placed in the most appetizing way on the plate. He had picked out a movie and a playlist for later. Dinner was cooking and his father and Carole were safely installed in their bedroom with enough crossword puzzles to last them a fortnight. Finn had a performance for glee club, so would be out for the evening. Blaine tended to just turn up these days, as he was there every evening anyway. It was the end of January, a Friday, so Kurt knew Blaine would be tired from a week of school and had planned the night accordingly.

His phone buzzed behind him and he reached for it, assuming it would be a text from Blaine saying he was on his way.

_Hey, won't be over tonight – Warblers are going bowling! –B_

Kurt stared at the screen blankly. He had just assumed Blaine would turn up. He looked around the room that he had tidied and primped and plumped perfectly. He could smell the food in the kitchen, just enough for two. He had put together an outfit he had thought was particularly fabulous.

Kurt sat heavily on the couch, angry at the tears pooling in his eyes. Of course Blaine had school friends. Of course he would want to spend time with them. Just because Kurt only had Mercedes and Blaine, didn't mean they only had him.

Kurt felt like he had been stood up on a date. He supposed that, from his emotional point of view, he had, even if Blaine didn't know that. He brushed tears from his cheeks and tapped a reply to Blaine.

_That's ok. Have fun –K_

It wasn't 'ok'. It most certainly wasn't. Kurt knew his text message didn't sound very enthusiastic, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He was aware that he was being childish and irrational, but he felt angry and indescribably jealous. He envied the Warblers for having Blaine and Blaine for having the Warblers.

His mood only worsened when he remembered that Mercedes was singing in the same performance as Finn. She had been gushing about her solo to him the day before, but Kurt hadn't really been listening. He was too busy planning this perfect evening with Blaine.

Usually his friend would have sent a text back by now and they would be engaged in cyber-banter. Kurt assumed he was too busy talking to the other Warblers to want to text him.

He knew he was being bitter, and it was a quality he honestly tried to avoid, but he couldn't help it. Being in love with Blaine made him even more vulnerable, especially as the other boy had no idea what he did to Kurt. Kurt was so confused by Blaine. Sometimes he was sure he acted in a way that crossed the platonic line. There were gestures, like the constant touching and fingers tangled into hair that allowed Kurt to hope, however much he tried to stop himself. He'd let himself believe that Blaine was shivering because of Kurt's breath on the nape of his neck, that he was blushing because he liked the way Kurt was teasing his fingers across Blaine's skin. He wanted to think that Blaine pulled himself back so much because he wanted more.

Kurt rarely gave in to these thoughts. They were dangerous for him. If he let himself think them, he knew he wouldn't be able to spend time with Blaine at all. It was like before they touched, when every second without skin-on-skin contact seemed drawn out to a painful degree. Now, every moment spent with Blaine when the other boy didn't know that Kurt was in love with him felt far longer than it should. Their lips were constantly too close and Kurt almost couldn't bear it.

He supposed he should be glad Blaine was spending an evening away from him. It would give Kurt time to clear his head. But no matter how much Kurt wanted to push Blaine away and get over him, he could only pull him closer. He had let himself hope too much over the last few days, which was why tonight had been so important. There were candles and love songs and the hope that he might press his lips to Blaine's cheek. Then, if Blaine reacted the way Kurt had imagined, to his lips, his neck, anywhere Kurt was allowed.

But Blaine was going bowling with people Kurt would never meet. Kurt knew he wouldn't work up the courage to say what he should after tonight.

He gave the food to his parents, snuffed out the candles and crawled into bed. It didn't matter that it was still early and he knew he wouldn't sleep for hours. He couldn't think of anywhere else to go and he wanted one more night to be alone and imagine what could have happened.

* * *

><p>Kurt had vowed to move past the night before, reasoning that Blaine had not knowingly done any wrong and should therefore be forgiven. He called the other boy that morning and was greeted with a slightly groggy 'hello'.<p>

"Hey, Blaine. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"Uh…" Kurt heard Blaine flop over on his bed. "Yeah. But it's okay. I should…" There was a yawn. "I should probably wake up."

"Oh, so are you coming over today?" Kurt asked, mentally finalising his plans for their day.

"Um, no, actually," Blaine replied, with an obvious edge of discomfort. "I…I have a date."

Kurt's fingers tightened around his phone. "A what?"

"A date. A coffee date, actually, with a guy I met before Christmas. He works at the GAP – you know, the one in…" Blaine continued speaking, now fully awake, but Kurt wasn't listening. He was clutching his phone too tightly and willing himself desperately not to cry. This _hurt_. He had considered the possibility that Blaine might find a guy he liked, but Kurt had never wanted to think too hard on it because it was too painful. So this? This was an unprecedented amount of pain.

He wanted to say it right then. He wanted to shut Blaine up and tell him he loved him, regardless of how unromantic that was. He just wanted Blaine to _know_ and stop talking about the guy who worked at the GAP and had really great hair.

"Kurt? Are you there?"

Kurt jumped. He hadn't realised he'd been silent for so long. "Yes, sorry. Still here."

"Are you okay? You sound kind of upset."

"No, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, you know? Up late with Mercedes last night." He wasn't quite sure why he lied. Maybe he didn't want Blaine to think he had been crying in his room into the early hours, despite how true that might be.

"Oh, God, I understand. Bowling was crazy last night. Ah, I haven't told you yet! Wes did this _insane_ thing with…" And he was off again, telling Kurt every detail of a night he had longed to be a part of, oblivious of the pain he was causing. Kurt eventually made some excuse about Carole calling him and managed to get Blaine off the phone.

He was feeling bitter again. It was almost becoming a habit. He hated his body for making him love Blaine against his will. If he wasn't a faerie, he could still be Blaine's friend and not be jealous of men he did not know because they were having coffee with Blaine. If he wasn't a faerie, he wouldn't be stuck in his house alone while his only two friends spent time with other people.

_I'm pathetic_. He couldn't go out and make other friends. He was left clinging to five people who had lives of their own that couldn't always revolve around Kurt.

He had a wild moment when he considered going out and grabbing someone's hand in the street just so there would be another person in his life. He hurriedly pushed that thought away. There was no point in connecting with someone who wouldn't want to know him and leaving himself emotionally destroyed.

His phone buzzed again. He considered not looking at it, but his curiosity got the better of him.

_I can come over tonight if you want me. Tell you all the date details! I'm kind of nervous – B_

'If you want me.' Blaine really had no idea.

Kurt was not thrilled by the thought of Blaine recounting every second of his date with The Gappy Bastard. It would undoubtedly be perfect. What if they kissed?

Kurt was starting to feel sick.

He tapped out a reply to the other boy, knowing he had to be a good friend, regardless of the ripping feeling in his chest.

_Don't be nervous. You're amazing. He's going to love you. –K_

* * *

><p>Blaine started speaking the moment Kurt opened the door. "Oh my God, Kurt, it was amazing. He's so beautiful and his eyes are like starlight and I think I'm in <em>love<em>." He kicked off his shoes as Kurt closed the door, reminding himself to breathe deeply and not cry or yell at Blaine. "He's so mature, you know? And he bought my coffee for me." Blaine pushed his friend towards the living area and sat him down on the couch, looking at him with bright eyes and flushed cheeks. Kurt wished that he had been the one to cause that expression. "Did I tell you how we met?" Blaine continued, tapping his hands on his knees in his excitement.

"Yes. Several times." Kurt's voice a little too dry, a little too sarcastic, but Blaine didn't notice.

"He was folding sweaters—"

"I know."

"—and I never knew someone could fold sweaters beautifully, but he manages it."

Kurt sighed, resigning himself to Blaine recounting the story for the third time – he had already told it twice on the phone that morning. Blaine was buzzing, unable to keep still. He kept grabbing Kurt's hands to emphasise points and the contact made Kurt's heart flip every time. He tried to tell himself that it wasn't a sign, that Blaine was excited about a date with another boy and there was no reason to feel that way, but his body never listened.

Eventually, Blaine started to mention his other friends, what their reactions had been when he had told them. Blaine had decided early on that he couldn't talk about Kurt much to his school friends. They were the kind of people who would insist on meeting the elusive boy and that was where the problems started. They had heard of Kurt in passing, when Blaine couldn't stop himself from repeating something the other boy had said, but they didn't know how deeply attached the pair were to each other. For some reason, that made Kurt more jealous. These boys knew the Blaine Anderson who was unburdened by the secret of the faerie who lived in Lima. Kurt had never asked Blaine not to mention them. He knew he had no right to make Blaine forget that part of his life while he was with him. However, Kurt was fragile. Blaine had crushed him one too many times that day.

"Blaine, can you stop talking about all these other people you want to spend time with and just _go spend time with them_?"

Blaine froze, his brow crinkling. "I…what? What are you talking about?"

"Do you really have to rub it in my face how many friends you have? I get that I'm not the only person you know. I do. But do you have to do this?"

"But, Kurt, I was just—"

Kurt shifted away from Blaine. "If you don't want to spend time with me any more, just tell me. I get that it's hard for you to be one of my only two friends, but—"

"Kurt, what are you talking about?" Blaine seemed utterly nonplussed by Kurt lashing out at him. He tried to reach out a hand to the other boy, but it was slapped away.

"You!" Kurt threw his arms up in the air. "You just swan off and spend all your time with other people, leaving me here."

"Kurt…it's been two days since I saw you. Barely even that. And you were with Mercedes yesterday."

"Oh, Blaine, don't be stupid. I lied because I don't want to seem as pathetic as I am."

There was silence for a minute and Kurt shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at the boy beside him. He started to pull at the ends of his shirtsleeves, trying to bring them further over his hands. Blaine watched him with wide, pained eyes.

"Why do you think you're pathetic?" He didn't shout back. His voice was low and sad and Kurt kept his the same.

"Because I have no-one. My family, Mercedes, you. You're the only people I know. And you have lives outside of my own, but when you live them it hurts me." Kurt tipped his head back, blinking tears out of his eyes. He refused to cry one more time over this boy, at least for today. "I can't have that. I can't go out and spend time with other people."

"So you want me to spend all my time with you?"

"No, that would be ridiculous—"

"You don't want me to have other friends?"

"Blaine, no, I—"

"Because that's what you seem to be saying to me, Kurt. I understand that being this way is hard for you, but you're right: I do have a life outside of the time I spend with you. I have school, I have the Warblers, I have other friends, I have my family. And for you to get angry with me for spending a little bit of time with them is, frankly, really selfish." Blaine was rolling on his anger and he knew he should stop, but he had so much built up frustration from Kurt being oblivious to his feelings that he couldn't hold himself back. "So you're connected to me. Fine. I'm not connected to you. You have to remember that."

Blaine stood up and practically ran from the house, leaving Kurt sitting alone on the couch. Kurt stared after him, fingers frozen as they gripped the fabric of his cuffs, replaying the words in his head.

_I'm not connected to you._


	11. All Apologies

_Author's Note: The response to the last chapter was amazing. Thank you all so much! I send a Kliss to each one of you._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 10 - All Apologies<em>

"I'm sorry," Blaine said as soon as Kurt opened the door. "I didn't mean it. I'm so—"

"Shut up." Kurt rolled his eyes and forced Blaine inside, shoving him towards the kitchen as he closed the door. "Blaine, it's midday. Please tell me you didn't skip school to come here."

Blaine sat awkwardly on a chair as Kurt began slamming coffee-making equipment about.

"I had to, Kurt. I couldn't concentrate. I feel so bad—"

"Blaine, please, stop it." Kurt put down the mugs and walked over to the other boy, pulling him out of his chair. "I should be apologising. I can't expect you to be here all the time."

"Kurt, you don't—"

Kurt cut him off again by pulling Blaine into his arms. "Can we just forgive each other and move on?"

"Aren't we supposed be adults and talk things through?" Blaine said, head on Kurt's shoulder.

"I expected things of you I shouldn't have, you said things you shouldn't have. There, done, talked about. I forgive you."

"Kurt." Blaine pulled back, putting a hand on each of Kurt's shoulders. "It's not that easy. What I said was awful and when I said it, I meant to hurt you. I knew what I was doing, Kurt, and that scares me." He rested his forehead against Kurt's, gripping the back of the other boy's neck with his hand. "I was willing to hurt you because I was angry. You can't forgive me for that when I can't forgive myself."

Kurt let Blaine hold him in silence for a few seconds, trying to think of a reply to that. "Why do you have to be so perfect?"

"What?" Blaine asked, laughing. "We were just talking about the horrible things I said to you. I'm not perfect."

"But you know what to say. You know how to come back from this."

There was something about Kurt when he was like this that made Blaine love him all the more. He couldn't control himself when Kurt acted this way. He took one of Kurt's hands and pressed his lips to the back of it. He wasn't sure if his imagination invented the way the other boy's breath caught in his throat.

"I don't know what to say," Blaine replied, lips still so close to Kurt's skin that he was speaking against it, unaware of how the other boy was shaking at the contact. "I don't know what I'm doing. Please just remember that it's not your fault, okay? None of it."

Kurt let himself breathe for a few seconds, trying to forget the feel of Blaine's lips against his hand before he spoke so that he would say something coherent. Thankfully, the other boy lowered their hands, allowing Kurt to think more clearly.

"Blaine, I'm sorry for the way I acted."

"Kurt, I just told you—"

"Stop it. This isn't all on you. It takes two to tango, or whatever. I can't resent you for not being like me and for wanting to share things with me." He fussed with the lapels of Blaine's Dalton blazer, smoothing them down as he thought out what he was about to say. "You should be able to get excited without it hurting me. Dates are just…they're harder for me. You remember what we talked about before Christmas?"

Blaine nodded, taking Kurt's hands to stop him from vainly straightening Blaine's perfectly starched collar.

"So you can understand that…it's hard for me because I won't have that as a teenager, maybe ever." He couldn't look Blaine in the eye when he was avoiding the truth this way. He tugged on Blaine's tie distractedly, pulling the other boy just a little bit closer. "That doesn't mean I should take out my…frustration on you."

"Nor should I on you."

"But what do you have to be frustrated about?"

Blaine paused, realising his slip. "That…that I can't have a normal friendship with you the way you deserve. I want to take you places, let you meet my parents and my friends. I know that I have no right to be annoyed about that, but I'm human, right?"

Kurt smiled and wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck again. "Was that enough grown up talking for your conscience?"

"For today."

"We have to do this again?"

"I don't want there to be any residual anger in our friendship," Blaine said. "We need to resolve this, but we can't do that all in one day. I should never have said that I wasn't connected to you and it will take both of us a while to move past that."

"But you're not."

"Maybe not the way you are, but that doesn't mean I'm not attached to you. Just because I'm not a faerie, doesn't mean I don't love you."

Kurt lifted his head from the crook of Blaine's neck. The shorter boy's arms were still around his waist, so they were pressed very close against each other. Kurt cupped Blaine's face in his hands and looked right into his eyes.

"I love you," he said. He watched Blaine's eyes, trying to determine what emotion he saw there. He wasn't sure whether there was a flicker as Blaine hid something or whether that was just the light of the kitchen or Kurt's own imagination. Blaine didn't look away, but placed his hands over Kurt's.

"I love you," he replied. "And I'm sorry."

Kurt couldn't make himself break the eye contact. They were staring so deeply that the connection was almost tangible and Kurt was sure this had to mean something. This had to be further than friendship. Then again, what did Kurt know?

* * *

><p><em>I need you – K<em>

Mercedes arrived only half an hour after the message. She hugged Kurt before he was even able to open the door properly, then pulled back and examined his expression.

"What's wrong?"

Kurt towed her inside, keeping her as close to him as possible and sat them both on the couch.

"I need to tell you something and I need you not to be angry that I didn't say it before." When she just nodded, Kurt carried on. "When I touched Blaine, you know that I connected to him. I..I've been lying to everyone about exactly how." She frowned, evidently not understanding. "I fell in love with him," Kurt said in a rush.

Mercedes opened and closed her mouth a couple of times. She seemed utterly dumbstruck. Eventually, she spluttered out a few words. "But, Kurt, _how_? Does he–?"

"He has no idea. You're the first person I've told."

"Kurt, why didn't you tell him the moment you realised?"

"He wasn't in love with me, 'Cedes. He wouldn't have forgiven himself for letting that happen and it would never have worked out. It's better this way."

"With him being clueless while you suffer it out alone?" Mercedes asked, shaking her head at him. "Kurt, please tell me you don't think this is your fault. You can't punish yourself or whatever it is that you're doing by not telling him."

Kurt slid off the couch, walking to the window as he crossed an arm across his stomach, resting the elbow of the other on it and placing his chin on his hand. "But it _is _my fault. I knew there was a chance this might happen and I went ahead and did it anyway. It was stupid. I'm not making myself pay by not telling him, though," he said, speaking over Mercedes protests against him claiming responsibility. "I just knew that if I did, he might have left me to let me get over him. I couldn't survive that Mercedes."

He didn't realise she had moved until she wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. She rested her head between his shoulder blades. "I don't think he would have left you, Kurt. In whatever way, Blaine does love you. I wouldn't give up on a future with him so easily. Even if your feelings can't change, his can."

"What if they can change?" Kurt asked quietly. "My feelings, I mean. Is that possible?"

She tightened her arms around his waist. "I don't know. I've never heard of it happening and you know how much research I've done over the years. And you're still my friend, aren't you? We're still the same."

"Yes." He picked at his bottom lip with the nails of his thumb and forefinger. "So you think I'll always love him? I can never just be his friend."

"Now that you've experienced being in love with him, do you really want to go back to the way you were before? I know it was probably easier that way, but don't you prefer these emotions? It gives him a chance to fall in love with you, Kurt."

"Being in love _is_ amazing," Kurt said, placing his arms over Mercedes' and tugging her closer. "It hurts of course, but the times when it doesn't..."

"So you won't give up on him?"

Kurt sighed, slotting his fingertips between the backs of her knuckles. "I couldn't if I tried."

* * *

><p>They made it through the end of January and into early February as well as could be expected. They didn't fight, but Kurt thought that might be worse. The two of them ended up tiptoeing around each other. Whatever undercurrents of discomfort there had been in their relationship before were now magnified. There were more things left unsaid in an attempt not to pick at scabs. Strange things changed, like Blaine no longer doing his homework around the other boy. Kurt wasn't sure where the Blaine did his work, although he assumed at school, considering he turned up a little later these days. Before, Kurt would have made a comment about this, but he didn't want to come across as trying to control Blaine again. He knew the other boy was trying to spare Kurt anything that might remind him of his situation, but by doing so to such a degree, Blaine only made it worse.<p>

When Kurt handed Blaine the outfit he had been working on for the last few weeks, it was not as momentous a moment as he had hoped. Everything they did was tinged with awkwardness as they figured out the boundaries of their friendship and whether they had changed, while remaining afraid to push too hard. Kurt passed over the garments a little too hastily; Blaine accepted them with a smile that was a little too wide. They were skewed now, friendship not aligned the way it had once been. They were pinned and well and truly sprawling, unsure which way to twist to make everything fit again.

Kurt frequently stopped himself from asking about Jeremiah, the beautiful GAP manager. He not only wanted to save himself the pain of listening to Blaine rave about the man, but he also wasn't sure how to broach the subject that had caused such a rift between them. There were days when Blaine didn't come over, but he always texted Kurt as to why. He was taking every measure that he could not to incite jealousy while also attempting to assure Kurt that being jealous was okay; that it was expected of someone who lived the way he did and he shouldn't be ashamed of it.

Mercedes continually asked Kurt if she could come over while Blaine was there. He refused too many times, resulting in her turning up uninvited one day.

"What are you doing here?" Kurt hissed.

"Visiting my best friend." She pushed past him. "Hey, Blaine."

The other boy looked up from his book, which he was reading while curled up on the couch. He smiled as he greeted Mercedes and Kurt noted that that was one of the most genuine smiles he had seen from Blaine since their argument. Mercedes settled herself beside the boy, pulling his legs across her lap and forcing him to close his book and chat to her. Kurt sat in the chair opposite them, glaring at Mercedes every time he caught her eye. He didn't know exactly what she was doing, but he could tell it was something he wouldn't approve of.

"So, Blaine," Mercedes said with a squeeze to the boy's foot. "Anyone special in your life right now?"

Kurt stared at her, unable to believe she was actually doing this. He wanted to jump up and distract Blaine or do something violent to Mercedes, but his curiosity made him sit still. Unwillingly, he kept his mouth shut and let his eyes slide to Blaine. The other boy looked at Kurt before he answered. Kurt knew he was wondering whether this would be too painful a conversation for him, but Mercedes squeezed his foot again and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Er..." He glanced at Kurt once more. "No. There...I went on a date about a week ago, but it...it didn't work out."

"Oh? That's sad. What happened?"

"He just wasn't right, you know?" Blaine said, scratching his head in his discomfort. "He was way older than me and I don't want to be with someone who doesn't fit with me." Blaine forced himself not to look at Kurt again. He would just give it away if he did that and now really was not the time. Even if Kurt could love him back, they were in too bad a place right now.

"Of course," Mercedes said, thankfully helping Blaine to keep his eyes fixed on her by speaking. "Nobody wants to be stuck in an imperfect relationship."

Blaine nodded and curled into the back of the couch. "I don't think I ever really liked him. I was just distracted by his spectacular head of hair."

Mercedes giggled and Kurt couldn't stop a smile from working its way onto his face. Blaine did look at him then and grinned when he saw that Kurt was finding humour in this conversation. It was the most carefree glance they had shared since the week before and Kurt felt his heart warm at the idea. He watched Blaine interact with Mercedes with less of a weight in his chest. He knew that they weren't perfect yet. They were still stuck in the in-between stage, not quite fighting but not in perfect harmony. He knew that as soon as Mercedes left there would be a noticeable change to the conversation; that it would become more stilted and careful. He didn't find himself as worried by that idea as he would have been before. They had smiled at each other and it had been real. Blaine was not spending all his time away from Kurt with store managers, folding sweaters while they whispered sweet nothings to each other. For now, Kurt thought he might be able to live with that.


	12. Part 1: One Short Day

_Author's Note: This chapter comes in two parts, both of which are very important to me. I want to cradle them, but I'm putting them here instead._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 11: Part 1 - One Short Day <em>

Blaine entwined their fingers, stroking a thumb across the back of Kurt's hand. Kurt tried to stop his heartbeat from quickening, but it was useless. He glanced up at Blaine's profile, wondering how this boy couldn't know what he was doing. He had to know on some level, he simply _had _to. Kurt knew he was not the most subtle when it came to his feelings, so he couldn't understand how Blaine had not noticed yet.

Blaine turned his face towards Kurt, grinning widely, evidently oblivious to the gasp the movement had elicited from the other boy. Their faces were so close together. It would take very little effort for Kurt to close the gap. Very little effort. Blaine's scent was filling his nostrils, clouding his mind, and that suddenly seemed like the best idea he'd ever had. Just as he began to lean forwards, however, Blaine turned away again and rested his head on Kurt's shoulder. The taller boy let out a shaky breath. This was getting ridiculous. He didn't know why he ever thought he would be able to survive being in love with someone and not telling them.

"I wish I could take you somewhere," Blaine said, turning his forehead into Kurt's shoulder. He didn't realise that his hair brushed against Kurt's neck, making him shiver.

"What do you mean?"

"It's Valentine's Day soon. I feel like we should be celebrating it somehow. And I don't mean that I want to be off having fun with someone else," Blaine continued, lifting his head from Kurt's shoulder. They still had moments which were strained, predominantly like these. Blaine constantly tried to reassure Kurt that he wanted to be there, not realising how much worse that made it for the other boy. He just wished they could be as they were before, each accepting that together was where they would rather be. Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes as he spoke, probably to show how truthful he was being, but only succeeding in distracting Kurt a bit. "I only want to be with you," he said. Kurt had to work hard again not to kiss him. Blaine was utterly blind. Did he not realise the connotations saying those things had? Did he not realise what he was doing to Kurt's heart? "But I want to take you away. To the beach or the mountains or, I don't know, shopping. Real life shopping, not internet shopping."

Kurt laughed and rested his forehead against Blaine's; if he couldn't kiss him, he could at least be closer to him. "That sounds perfect. I want that, too. I wish we could just pack our bags and fly somewhere, you know? Somewhere crazy, like New York."

Blaine hummed in assent and leaned into Kurt again, his forehead buried in the crook of his neck. Kurt wondered if this was strange, friends being close this way. He wouldn't complain about Blaine's tactility, but he also needed to make sure he didn't get his hopes up. It was too much to ask that Blaine would just fall in love with him. His conversation with Mercedes had already made him hope more than he usually allowed himself to.

Kurt thought over what Blaine had said. He really did want to see more of the world, get out of his tiny town; in fact, he was desperate to leave his _house_, let alone Lima.

"We should go."

"What?" Blaine asked into Kurt's jacket.

Kurt sighed and pushed Blaine up, holding onto his shoulders and looking at him with a serious expression. "We should go. Let's book tickets and fly to New York. Valentine's Day is on Monday, but we can go on the weekend so you don't miss school."

A frown crept onto Blaine's face. "Kurt, we can't. Your dad would never let you and I don't even want to think about how risky that would be."

"I'll wear gloves and even a balaclava if you want me to. We can walk in the least deserted parts of town – although we have to see Times Square at least once – and we'll go out at night rather than the day—"

"Are you forgetting it's called The City That Never Sleeps?" Blaine raised his eyebrows at Kurt with a grin and Kurt hit his arm lightly.

"Don't be mean. There will be fewer people on the streets. I just _really_ want to. And we could go and see shows if we got seats at the end of the row and didn't try to go to the bathroom."

"What? What does the bathroom have to do with anything?"

"Oh," Kurt said with a wave of his hand, "theatres always have ridiculously crowded bathrooms. Far too dangerous. But—"

"Kurt." Blaine took Kurt's hands in his own, his eyes bright with suppressed laughter. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. We'll go to New York. But you're the one that has to ask your dad."

Kurt groaned and stamped his foot a little. "That is _not_ fair: that's the worst job."

Blaine just stuck his tongue out at him.

They spent the next few hours planning their trip, making a list of all the things they wanted to see and the places they wanted to eat and every shop Kurt wanted to go into early in the morning when no-one would be there. Blaine watched the other boy plan wildly, a soft smile on his face. He really couldn't refuse Kurt anything. This trip was insane. It was the worst and best idea they'd ever had rolled into one, but Kurt wanted it and Blaine couldn't deny him.

* * *

><p>The two boys stood a few feet from the subway exit, hands clasped between them, just gazing up at the enormity of the city surrounding them.<p>

"I can't believe we're actually here," Kurt said, his voice barely audible over the sound of car horns, footsteps, and street vendors shouting. "We're in New York."

Blaine finally dragged his eyes away from the flashing lights of Times Square, to Kurt's face. The other boy was still enthralled by the sight in front of him, eyes bright blue and wide, and Blaine was struck by how stunning he was in that moment.

"It's beautiful," he replied, not sure whether he was talking about the city or the boy any more. He squeezed Kurt's hand gently and bumped his shoulder against the other boy's. "One day, you'll be here. You will sing on the biggest stages and bring the biggest crowds. Or you'll design the clothes that every person would kill to have."

Blaine had meant for the words to make Kurt smile, but they had the opposite effect. The taller boy turned his head away from his friend, face falling into a frown. "Don't…don't say things that can never come true, Blaine. That will never be me. Just being here right now is dangerous. Think of all the people walking across this very square. Within a one hundred yard radius of where we're standing, there are thousands of opportunities for me to connect with someone I will never even see the face of." He shook his head, still not making eye contact. "This…this was a terrible idea. I don't know why we thought this would be safe at all."

"Kurt—"

Blaine was cut off as a tiny girl wearing an obnoxiously bright coat burst between them. She grabbed each of their hands and pulled them forwards a little before releasing them and spinning to stand in front of them, stretching out her arms.

"I made it!" she yelled, throwing her head back and grinning at the grey New York sky. "I'm here! Rachel Berry is in New York, and now that I'm in here, you'll _know_ I've been here before I am done!" Her speech had turned into song and Blaine vaguely recognised the tune as she skipped away from them into the crowd of people, but he wasn't concentrating on the girl at all. He was staring at Kurt, horrified. The other boy was standing completely still, his hand, which he had ungloved to hold onto Blaine's, stretched out towards where the girl had been standing, his expression utterly broken.

"Kurt…" Blaine didn't know what he could say. Kurt eyes filled with tears and suddenly he collapsed, falling into Blaine and clinging to him as he sobbed. Both of them knew they would never see the girl again, and Kurt's heart was breaking for the loss of someone he couldn't know, but loved impossibly deeply.

After a time Blaine couldn't count, Kurt's sobs diminished slightly, but Blaine did not stop rubbing his back. He just pulled Kurt tighter to him as the other boy mumbled something into his jacket. Kurt pulled his head away a little so Blaine could hear him.

"She was singing Wicked, Blaine."

The memory of the tune clicked in Blaine's mind: he recalled lying on Kurt's bed as they listened to the entire Wicked soundtrack, watching Kurt dance around his room and sing along to every song. Kurt knew nothing about the girl other than her name and that she could sing and make references to one of Kurt's favourite musicals. From those tiny snippets of information, it seemed like she and Kurt could have been friends, and that only made it worse.

"Blaine, please. Take me home," Kurt whispered into the crook of Blaine's neck. "I thought I wanted to come here, but this was a bad idea. I need to leave. Take me back to Lima."

The request would be absurd coming from any other person, but this was Kurt, and this was Blaine, and it wasn't absurd at all. They took a taxi to avoid the people on the subway, and then a plane back to their small part of Ohio. When they stumbled through the door, Burt and Carole looked up, seeming to understand immediately what had happened. Blaine had talked with them before he and Kurt left, and he knew they had been worried, but Kurt was a force of nature and he could not be compelled to change his mind about this trip.

They let Blaine take Kurt up to his room alone, where the taller boy collapsed on the bed, still sobbing. His tears had barely stopped since the moment the girl – Rachel Berry – had left them standing in the middle of New York. Blaine sat on the bed beside Kurt and stroked his back.

"Kurt, I know I can't understand what you're feeling right now, but I'm still here, okay?" He kept his voice quiet, taking one of Kurt's hands in his own. The other boy gripped Blaine's fingers tightly and pulled their joined hands into his chest. "We're all still here," Blaine continued, "and although we can't make up for this loss, we can help you through it. Not everyone you connect with is going to leave you, Kurt."

"I know that, Blaine. That doesn't make it hurt any less." Kurt was not trying to mean. He was not trying to be bitter. He had spent many years working hard at not being bitter, because he knew it did him no good. He couldn't hold it in sometimes, though, and he was unable to stop the cutting tone to his voice.

Blaine sighed, knowing that whatever he said would not make it better for Kurt. It was just like any other person's loss: it took time to heal. Rachel Berry had no idea how much damage she had done. He said the only thing he could think of: "You're my best friend, Kurt." He had said it countless times before, but he felt it important to reiterate it. He could not have expected the reaction.

"Blaine, are you completely blind? Or are you just stupid?" Kurt sat up suddenly, pulling away from Blaine's comforting touch to glare at him. He saw Blaine's confused expression and barrelled on. He could take no more of being only Blaine's friend. "Did it never once cross your mind that when we connected, I might have fallen in love with you? Did you not realise that was a possibility?"

"Kurt…what are you saying?"

"Oh, you _idiot_, Blaine," Kurt yelled, standing up on the opposite side of the bed from the boy he loved. "I fell in love with you! My stupid body attached me to you in a way I can't control, and it made me love you! And I couldn't tell you because you would feel guilty and never see me again, and my stupid, unwillingly love-struck heart would not let me do that because_ I can't live without you_. So don't say that you will be here for me as my friend, because it's not good enough any more!"

Blaine had stood up when Kurt had, but he sank onto the bed again. He stared, wide-eyed at the quivering boy in front of him. Kurt's eyes were completely open, his emotions exposed and raw, and Blaine couldn't think of what to say. "Kurt, I don't…I don't know what to do. What do you want me to do?"

If Kurt had looked broken before, it was nothing to how he looked now. He visibly flinched and curled in on himself, his shoulders slumping as he brought his arms around himself. Blaine had just dashed all hopes he had had that his friend might return his feelings. His heart broke for the second time that day, and Kurt had thought people were exaggerating when they said they felt it in their chest, but now he knew that they weren't. There was a dull ache settling in his ribcage as his tears continued to flow down his cheeks. Blaine just continued to stare at him, with that stupid crease between his eyebrows and that stupid confused, hurt, worried expression in his stupidly beautiful eyes. Kurt couldn't look at him any more.

"Please leave."

"Kurt, I—"

"Just _get out_!"

There was a beat of silence in which Blaine continued to stare into Kurt's eyes. Neither boy knew what he was trying to communicate, but the moment was too short to truly establish the emotion. Blaine stood up, understanding what Kurt needed, and left the room.

Kurt fell towards the bed, just managing to crawl onto it before he had to clutch his knees to his chest and sob. He felt as though someone had ripped parts of him away and then stabbed him for good measure. He lost track of time and tears, only becoming aware of something other than what he was feeling when his father sat on the bed beside him. Burt was looking at him with deep concern, and Kurt knew he had heard the argument. He clasped at Burt's hands and pulled himself into his father's arms. Burt simply held him as he cried, stroking his back. There was nothing he could say to his son. He had felt this way himself and he knew there were no words that would make it better.


	13. Part 2: Addicted

_Author's Note: Thank you for your response to the last part. I know this second part is probably not quite what people expected, but I hope you like it all the same._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 11: Part 2 - Addicted<em>

**_"Addictions are repetitive behaviours in the face of negative consequences, the desire to continue something you know is bad for you." – Joseph Frascella_**_  
><em>

She wandered through the throng, examining the faces around her. Anyone looking particularly harassed, unfriendly, she moved closer. She uncurled her finger and trailed the tip of it lightly across the back of their hand as they moved past, a barely-there touch that wouldn't be noticed on a New York street. The shiver of feeling that passed through her thrilled her, filling her up for those few brief seconds. The pain that came after was almost better, in her opinion. This was what it was to be alive: loving, losing, all within the space of a moment. She was connected to all these people, a web of human life. There was a network of unnamed, faceless people that she loved, perhaps spread across the world by now. She wanted to laugh at the thought. These people would never know. They never even noticed her.

The pain was addictive. She didn't know when she had become dependent on the harsh snap of heartbreak, the rush that came from touching someone and the ache that followed when they were lost forever. She could cry herself to sleep every night, mourning all the lost friends and loves, and delight in the perfect tragedy of her life. She didn't know when it started, but she knew now that she couldn't stop. She thought of herself as a love junkie, but if she was honest, she was more of a pain, suffering and heartbreak junkie. She had never taken drugs – she didn't need to. This was so much better.

A businessman rushed past her and she reached out a hand, running her fingertips along the back of his wrist. She shuddered. He was warmer than the last one, the sensation bubbling through her faster, more violently. This wasn't a friend, this was a love. She adored those: they brought the best aftershock.

She climbed the steps out of the subway at a quick pace, her heart already cracking in two for the man with the briefcase stepping onto one of the trains, feet below her. She spotted two boys ahead of her, hands clasped together. Perfect. Two boys, totally unattainable in normal circumstances. She could have both of them and lose them just as quickly. Today was a good day.

She didn't just take anyone. She wasn't some cheap harlot of a faerie, connecting to everyone who walked the Earth. She preferred those who looked lonely, stressed, or just a little bit lost. She could see from the way their heads were tilted to the tops of the buildings that these boys were new to the city. She supposed that made them like her on some level, but she dispelled that thought quickly. They weren't like her. Neither of them would ever understand. They probably thought keeping a faerie in captivity was an acceptable thing to do. They probably believed the Lust Theory. They had no idea the number of people she had connected with, had no idea the way her emotions were stretched across the country, the continents, who knew where.

They were new to the city. She needed to welcome them. She should give them something suitably ridiculous. Perhaps Wicked would ring a bell with them, add a little to their ideal view of New York. She ran up behind them, pulling their hands apart, tugging them towards the thrum with her. She released them, the buzz running from both palms, up her arms, across her body and right into her heart. She let it fill her as she sang a couple of lines. She threw her name in. Why not? These were good ones. These connections were strong, hot like fire, but not tainted with that air of lust she had had with The Businessman. She threw her arms out as she reached the climax of her small extract. This, _this_ was her stage. She was an unknown performer giving the show of her life to two unwitting boys. She was feeling almost drunk on the love in her veins. She had thought these two would be fun to brush skin with; she had no idea they would be this potent a drug. There was something about the taller one, whose bright blue eyes she avoided – she had a rule about eye contact. His connection was unlike any other she had felt before. It wasn't necessarily stronger, but it felt different, as if he wasn't built the same way as the rest. She felt an odd sense of familiarity in the rush of emotions he gave her.

She couldn't let herself think too much on it. Thinking made the drug wear off: she would be crying for reality, not for tragedy, if she let herself carry on. She span away from the pair, quickly losing herself in the crowd. She slipped her gloves out of her pocket, garish as her striped coat: she'd had her fill for today.

She almost looked back.

Later on, she would wish she had. She would see the face of the broken boy she left behind. Perhaps she would have recognised something there; perhaps she would have seen a similar being. She may have realised that this boy knew exactly what she was feeling. He understood more than anyone she had ever met and all she had done was hold his hand.

But she didn't look back. She kept her gaze fixed steadily ahead of her, using her tiny shoulders to push through the people. Rachel Berry never looked back, because Rachel Berry was afraid of love.


	14. Another Day

_Chapter 12 - Another Day_

"_In the latest news from Washington, there have been further discussions regarding the potential repeal of the Faerie Trading Regulations Act and Faerie Rights Act. So far, there seems to be no clear decision in either party. Very few Republicans or Democrats have declared their views on the proposal. Senator Donovan is one of the few actively backing the idea and he has mentioned starting a campaign in support of it. Donovan is also one of the many senators rumoured to have been involved in illegal faerie usage."_

Kurt pressed the off switch hard before throwing the remote at the floor. He knew there was a reason he stuck to old movies.

He buried his face in the couch cushion. Without the television to distract him, memories of Blaine and Rachel Berry could take up residence in the forefront of his mind again. He willed himself not to cry. He didn't know how he had any more tears left to shed. There were times when he was sure it hadn't been real; that he had imagined the trip to New York, the girl in the bright coat and the heartbreak. He had cried so much he felt numb and as if he were separate from reality. Each time, however, he remembered that it was real. Each time, something in his heart snapped, as if someone were cutting the strings.

Something about the human mind makes it do those things it knows will cause it pain. That was the only way Kurt could explain himself listening to the Wicked soundtrack. If he had identified with it before, it was nothing compared to how it affected him now. Every song only made him cry harder, but he carried on. He wasn't ready to give Rachel up yet. He had only loved her a day, after all. He had a whole lifetime to get over that loss; for now, he wanted to hold onto those tiny positive emotions. They helped to drag him through the large horde of other ones, mostly relating to Blaine, that made him want to curl in on himself.

After a few hours, Finn had tapped tentatively on Kurt's door.

"Come in."

Finn pushed the door open and paused just inside the room. "Hey, Kurt."

Kurt continued to stare at the ceiling, tracks from his tears drying on his cheeks, so Finn carried on without a response.

"I know that you're going through something really hard. I totally get that. But I just...do you think you could turn this off?" He pointed to the CD player, which had the volume turned right up as it blasted out _Thank Goodness_ for at least the fifth time that day. "I don't mean to be insensitive or whatever, I just…"

Finn trailed off as Kurt slid wordlessly off the bed and flicked the machine off. After hours of the noise, Kurt's ears rang in the silence.

"It's…" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and started again. "It's fine. I should stop torturing myself, anyway."

Finn frowned as Kurt sat on the edge of his bed, his shoulders uncharacteristically slumped. He closed the door behind him and sat next to his stepbrother.

"What happened exactly? I know about you and…" He decided it was best to avoid the other boy's name. "But Burt said something about New York. Did anything happen there?"

Kurt stared at his rug, cursing himself for crying again. He supposed telling Finn was better than anyone else. He hated to upset his father more than he already had, and he was sure both he and Carole were hurt that Kurt hadn't trusted them enough to confide in them when he first connected to Blaine. But Finn…Finn didn't seem to mind. He was just worried that Kurt was sad.

"Yes," Kurt said, voice raw. "It was…" He took Finn's hand. "It was awful."

"Oh my God, you weren't…no-one did anything to you, did they?" He squeezed Kurt's fingers harder than he should have, but Kurt didn't mind. At least Finn was there.

"No, no, nothing like that. At least, not physically." He shuffled closer to Finn, resting against the taller boy's side. He wasn't sure when he had become so dependent on physical contact, but he needed something to anchor him. "I connected to someone."

"How?"

"We were in Times Square. She grabbed our hands."

"But weren't you-?"

"I took one glove off to hold…to hold his hand."

Finn nodded, the movement slow as he considered what to say in reply. "You fell in love as a friend, right?"

"She was a girl, Finn."

He put his free hand up in front of him. "Just checking." Kurt sighed and brought one knee up to his chest, leaning more heavily on Finn. "I wonder if that can happen, though," Finn said. "If you can fall in love with a girl. This connection thing seems so random. Does it really take, um, sexual preference into account?"

"God, you make it sound like its own entity," Kurt said. "That's horrifying."

"But seriously, dude. Do you think that could happen?"

"I really hope not."

Puck, who Kurt knew only via overheard phone conversations, had called Finn soon after and when the other boy left to 'shoot hoops' with his friend, apologising profusely to Kurt for abandoning him, the faerie was left with nothing but the urge to watch mindless television. He wasn't sure how he got sucked into a news broadcast, but he quickly realised how removed from the world he had been recently, in more ways than his physical isolation. Kurt couldn't stand thoughts of a future without even vague rights on top of those about Blaine and Rachel Berry, as well as what Finn had said.

His stepbrother had once more spoken without a great deal of thought, while still managing to make Kurt realise something profound about himself. He knew very little about what he actually was. He didn't know whether a person's gender impacted on how he would connect to them. He wasn't sure whether, if he had met Blaine at a different time, or connected to him at a different point in their relationship, he would have still fallen in love. It was a question of whether he was fated to connect to particular people in way that was predestined, or whether each connection was random, with a chance of going either way.

Inevitably, that led to more tears seeping into the couch cushion. Perhaps if he'd done things differently, Blaine would be sitting with him right now, arms around his best friend as he helped him through his loss. Perhaps they would never have gone to New York at all and they would be drinking coffee in his kitchen, talking about Blaine's latest date with Jeremiah without a hint of jealousy from Kurt.

That wasn't how it was going to be. Kurt and Blaine had done what they thought was right. It was a Sunday afternoon and for the first time since they met, Blaine was not in Kurt's house. It ripped at the cracks in Kurt's heart. He cried for Blaine, and he cried for Rachel, and he cried because he didn't want to be crying for Rachel. He didn't want to be crying for Blaine, either, but there was something even worse about his grief being not only amplified, but his emotions about Blaine being given less precedence than they should have. If he was going to cry over this boy, he wanted it to be the only thing he was crying over.

Instead, when he managed to slow his tears to just small hiccups, his mind would drift back to the girl. If she wasn't from New York, then where was she from? Kurt tried to stop himself hoping that she would be from Ohio because that was such a ridiculous idea, but he was heartbroken and he needed something to wish for.

"Kurt, honey, do you want something to eat?"

He lifted his gaze to Carole, who was watching him with the same concerned expression she had worn around him since he returned from New York.

"I'm not really hungry," he replied, dropping his eyes to the floor again.

He heard Carole sigh and the floorboards creak as she approached him. She sat next to his side on the couch, stroking her fingers through his hair when he didn't look at her.

"How are you doing?"

"Wonderful."

"Kurt, don't be sarcastic. I know that you're hurting." She wrapped an uncharacteristic stray curl of hair around her finger, making it pull a little at Kurt's scalp, not quite enough to cause pain. "You shouldn't push me and your dad away. We've been through the loss, both of us. We understand, honey."

"But you don't," Kurt said, only managing a strangled half-whisper through the fresh tears. "They didn't turn you down."

Carole's fingers stilled in his hair. Kurt didn't have to look at her to see the pained, pitying expression on her face.

"From what I heard," she said, stroking at his scalp again, "he didn't say that he didn't want you."

"But he didn't say that he _did_."

She took his hand and kissed it before she spoke. "Kurt, don't get upset, but I don't think you really gave him the chance. You told him how you felt," she said, talking over his protests, "but you didn't give him enough time to get over the shock of it before you told him to leave. Finding out that someone you thought was unreachable is in love with you is not something you just accept, Kurt. He may have been hurting you all this time, but you have to understand how it was for him. He thought you connected to him has a friend. For you to then completely contradict that…it's not an easy thing to come to terms with."

"So," Kurt said, "you think he could still be in love with me?"

"I don't want to say yes and end up hurting you more," she said, tucking the strand she had been curling behind his ear, "but I am sure that he loves you, in whatever way. At the very least, he will come to tell you that."

Kurt reached up behind him, tugging on Carole's shoulder so that she leaned over his back. Realising what he wanted, she wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the awkward angle of it.

"Thank you," Kurt said.

* * *

><p>"Mercedes called," Burt said as he entered the living room. He threw the iPhone to Kurt, who was still on the couch, lying on his back now as he stared at the ceiling. The boy caught it, flipping it over to check the screen. Two missed calls, both from Mercedes. Nothing from Blaine. Not even a text.<p>

"Hey," Burt said softly when he saw Kurt scrunch his face up and drop his phone onto his stomach. "What's wrong?"

"Do you really need to ask that?"

Burt sighed and a crease formed between his eyebrows as he took in his despondent son. He crossed the room to sit on the edge of the coffee table, bringing him closer to Kurt's eye level. Kurt would normally have reprimanded him for using the table when there were perfectly good chairs available. He didn't, though, and that alone gave Burt more reason to worry.

"Kurt, I don't want you to be blaming yourself for how this turned out."

"Dad, I'm not—"

Burt held up a finger. "I know you. You think if you'd done things differently, this would never have happened." Kurt turned his head from his father, facing the back of the couch. "Kurt," Burt said, "I think that whenever you connected to Blaine, you would have…felt this way. Even if you met him twenty years from now."

"So you think my emotions towards people are fixed?" Kurt said to the couch cushion. "You think they can never turn out differently?"

"It's love, Kurt. If it were as variable as that, it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't be as…powerful."

Kurt didn't reply. He reached up to pick at the threads of the cushion – a habit he would never have allowed himself to develop before. As he pulled one loose and wrapped it around the end of his finger, the doorbell rang. With another sigh and a brief rest of his hand on his son's back, Burt went to answer it. Kurt was too caught up in thinking about what his father had said to really register his departure. He didn't listen to the voice at the door enough to recognise it. Therefore, when his father tramped back into the room, he jumped, sitting upright. After a couple of seconds, he caught his father's expression.

"Dad, what's going on?"

"Blaine's here."


	15. As Long As You're Mine

_Author's Note: I return from my travels across the world! I'm so sorry to have left you with a cliffhanger for so long, it just wasn't possible for me to update before now. As always, thank you for reading/commenting/thinking about my story. For the tumble-bugs, if you want me to see something about this story on tumblr, just tag your post with 'a touch of the fingertips', 'poisonivy231' or 'cirisamorpheus'. (Or even 'glitterandpaws', which is my livejournal.) Someone used the first one a week ago and I almost died from excitement because so far it's just been me. And now, to chapter 13._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 13 - As Long As You're Mine<em>

As Kurt pushed past his father, Burt grabbed his elbow, pulling him to a standstill.

"Kurt," he said, "don't hide anything this time, okay?"

Kurt looked up at him, who was staring at him in that way that made Kurt sure he could read every fluctuation of his emotions. "I have nothing left to hide from him."

Burt gave a wry smile, clapped him on the shoulder and pushed him gently towards the door. Kurt entered the hallway, closing the door to the living room behind him before taking a deep breath and turning around. Blaine was standing on the doormat, biting his lip. He looked afraid to enter the house proper without Kurt's permission. Kurt couldn't help but smile at Blaine's expression. He gestured to the staircase.

"My room?"

"Yeah," Blaine said, giving Kurt a relieved smile in return. They were both amazed that they were being so friendly to each other. It was awkward as hell, but no-one was crying. Kurt almost took Blaine's hand to lead him up the stairs as he so often did, but he remembered that he didn't know what Blaine had come to say yet. Blaine watched the twitch of Kurt's arm as he pulled it back to his side, but didn't comment on it; the sight, however, stopped the smile on his face.

Blaine shut the bedroom door behind them and they stood awkwardly for a moment before speaking at the same time.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I should have said something."

Kurt bit his lip, then tried to speak again, but Blaine stopped him.

"No, let me say this. Kurt, you know better than anyone that I'm not very good at romance. I'm terrible at indentifying my own feelings and others'." Blaine took Kurt's hand and this time Kurt did not resist his need to hold onto it. "I think…I think I ignored the chance that you might fall in love with me because it was easier that way." He kept his eyes locked on Kurt's, squeezing his hand tightly. "I was so…confused about my own feelings. I didn't know how to define the way I felt – the way I _feel_ about you and it was safer to just pretend there was no chance you'd connect to me in that way. I guess I didn't want…" He had to look away then, lifting his free hand to brush tears from his eyes. He wasn't looking at Kurt, so he missed the way his eyes had widened as he understood what Blaine was saying. Blaine should have looked, because Kurt's eyes were the most beautiful colour in that moment and filled with more happiness than Blaine had ever seen there. "I didn't want to hope too much," he continued, staring at the floor. "You connect one way and that's it. Your feelings don't change. If I'd let myself imagine it, I think that even though I wasn't sure of my feelings for you, you connecting to me as a friend would have crushed me." He took a shaky breath, running his fingers through his hair.

Kurt just stared at Blaine in silence for almost a whole minute, letting him keep hold of his hand as he watched the floor. Blaine could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, speeding up the longer Kurt did not reply. Eventually, he couldn't stop himself from speaking again. "Kurt, say something."

Kurt took a deep breath, as though Blaine had just reminded him of where he was, and squeezed Blaine's hand a little. "We're so stupid," he said, shaking his head.

"Wh-what?"

"We're totally blind, both of us. God, Blaine," Kurt said, laughing as he placed his other hand on Blaine's cheek, turning Blaine's head so their eyes locked, "we could have been in love all this time."

Blaine grinned back at him. "So you're not—"

"Turning you down? Blaine, are you crazy?"

Blaine didn't know why he felt so relieved. He had known that Kurt was in love with him. Nothing could change that. But somehow he still thought Kurt might turn him away, tell him he'd waited too long, broken his heart too much. He pulled Kurt into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of his neck and just breathing him in. Kurt rested his cheek against Blaine's hair, smiling as he slipped his hands under his arms and up behind his shoulders, holding him close. He had that feeling which he was starting to become familiar with: a sense of completion when his connection with someone was recognised and returned; an idea of being whole. Blaine tightened his arms around Kurt's waist, before leaning his head back and looking him straight in the eyes.

"I love you."

Kurt pressed his lips together, trying not to cry. He looked into Blaine's eyes, bright hazel and shining, and saw the truth of the statement in them. There was nothing Blaine had to hide from Kurt any more – nothing either of them had to hide – and he was laying his emotions out, pressing them into Kurt's hands with no fear that they would be unwanted. A tiny sob worked its way out of Kurt's throat, but he was smiling. "I love you, too."

"Can I kiss you?"

Kurt's eyes widened, becoming overly large in his face. He had been expecting the question somewhere in his subconscious, but his conscious mind hadn't quite caught up yet. His breathing picked up and he stuttered as he spoke.

"I-I've n-never—"

"I know. That doesn't matter." Blaine stroked Kurt's back with one hand, then seemed to realise what he had said. "I mean, of course it matters. Your first kiss is important and momentous and…another adjective I can't think of right now. I just meant that it doesn't change the way I—"

Kurt pressed a finger to Blaine's lips, the corners of his mouth twisting upwards as he suppressed a grin. "Blaine, I get it. I'm just a little nervous, but," he chuckled, "I think you are, too, so it's okay. We can…be nervous together or something."

Blaine let out a breathy laugh and squeezed his arms tighter around Kurt's waist. "Okay. Nervous together. Now?"

"Now."

Blaine nodded and Kurt almost laughed at how Blaine was obviously steeling himself. He didn't though, because suddenly Blaine had moved a little closer to him, shuffling feet between his, and was tilting his head as he leaned forwards.

When their lips touched, Kurt was momentarily sure that they had connected all over again. He felt the same rush through his veins, the same sensation of being able to do anything. After a second, however, Blaine was less tentative and pressed his lips harder against Kurt's, drawing him right back in. Neither of them moved. They just paused at that point, experiencing the moment they first solidified their love for each other.

Blaine pulled back and Kurt tried to follow him, to keep the contact between their lips. Blaine laughed and placed a hand on either side of Kurt's face, making their eyes meet.

"I love you," he said, because one time wasn't enough. He wanted to say it over and over again, so Kurt could have not a single doubt in his mind that Blaine wanted him, only him, forever.

"I love you," Kurt said, laughing breathily because he knew it should be funny. He could tell what Blaine was trying to do, though, and it only made him love him more.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Kurt giggled, his eyes dropping from Blaine's as he blushed. "You don't have to ask every time, you know. It might get a little frustrating."

"You say that like we'll be kissing a lot."

Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's waist and pulled him against him. He kissed Blaine quickly before he spoke, simply because he could. "You forget, Mr Anderson, that I have a lifetime of love for you left in me. That's an uncountable number of kisses."

Blaine stared into Kurt's eyes, the brightest he had ever seen them. He knew he was only seventeen and he should be terrified that he and this beautiful boy were promising their lives to each other, but he couldn't be. He knew that Kurt's emotions were as strong as anyone's could be and he knew that his matched them. He couldn't be afraid of that. He realised now that love wasn't something to fear, not with Kurt. So he kissed him again; the third kiss in what he hoped would be a lifetime of kisses.

* * *

><p>Rachel buckled herself into her seat, careful not to brush her wrist against that of the man beside her. She was not going to spend a whole flight stuck next to someone she loved while she pretended not to be interested in them. She tugged the arms of her jacket as far down her wrists as she could and folded her hands in her lap. The flight attendant walked briskly past her aisle seat and she pulled her elbow closer to her body. She was also not going to fall in love, romantic or otherwise, with the guy who was going to be offering her orange juice in an hour or so.<p>

She had her gloves in her pocket, ready for the airport. She tucked her hands between her knees as the pilot for their flight from New York to Ohio introduced himself over the speakers. She would be sad to leave this city, and not just because of the newfound loved ones she was ripping herself away from. There was something about its streets, its theatres and its cafes that served truly excellent coffee which drew her, and not just with the allure of the number of potential connections they held. However, she had only booked herself in for a weekend of heartbreak. She had to be back before her fathers if she was going to keep this trip and her little connection habit a secret.

She leaned forwards a little to watch their take-off through the window. She was done with New York for now. She was going home.


	16. Fashion of His Love

_Author's Note: I'm sorry I'm not updating as regularly now. I have lots of work to do, so if I drop off for a week, I apologise. It really just depends on the chapter. I battled with this one, but finally had an epiphany of what to do with it yesterday, so it's now a combination of two separate moments I wrote a while ago._

_Anyone subscribed to me (or whatever it's called) may have noticed I'm putting up a few oneshots. These are just things I wrote a while ago, but have been on my livejournal account only. Similarly, I'm putting things I had only on here onto that account, too. If you want to read those, I'd be really grateful. *self-promotes* *feels guilty*_

_I'm still amazed at the reception this fic has got and I wanted to thank you all again for reading it and everything else._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 14 - Fashion of His Love<em>

"When you touched me, how did you know?" Blaine traced a fingertip down Kurt's arm, then leant down to follow the path with his lips. Kurt smiled down at him, overwhelmed by how right this felt, how everything just seemed to fit now. It was Monday, one day after their first kiss, and Blaine was sitting next to Kurt on the faerie's bed with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows, his blazer slung over the back of Kurt's chair and his hair breaking free of the day's gel. Kurt wanted to tell him he looked beautiful, but Blaine had asked him something.

"What do you mean?" Kurt whispered, trying not to gasp at the sensation of Blaine kissing his wrist. Blaine seemed to notice the intake of breath anyway and kissed Kurt's palm, letting the tip of his tongue run across one palm line. He pressed his lips firmly to it once more, then crawled back to lie down next to Kurt again. He brushed the other boy's hair behind his ear, his eyes open and filled with love in the way they only were for Kurt.

Blaine glanced around the room before he spoke, seeming to work up the courage to say what he had been thinking about since Valentine's Day. He took in the soft, minimalist tones of the walls and curtains, the pristinely arranged shelves and desks. The door to the closet where Blaine knew Kurt stowed his materials and the way the lights were placed to provide perfect ambience. Kurt was so entrenched in every facet of this room, making it impossible for Blaine to feel anything but safe, wrapped up in the boy he loved in such a way. Along with the kitchen, this was one of the rooms which held so many defining moments of their relationship. He returned his eyes to Kurt, who was stretched out on the bed beside him. His eyes always stood out against the colours of his walls and bedspread, which Blaine knew Kurt had chosen partially for that reason. The palette always, _always_, had to match the owner. "How did you know you were in love with me? What did it…feel like?"

Kurt saw the flicker of nervousness that passed across Blaine's eyes as he asked, so he kissed him quickly. "I've described the connection feeling to you before." His eyes flicked to the ceiling briefly as he considered how to word it. The sensation was so very complex and unlike anything else he'd ever experienced. There weren't commonplace phrases to describe it. "Every part of you feels warm, charged with this beautiful energy," he said, looking at Blaine once more. "With you, it was so much more vibrant and…almost tangible, although that may be because I'm older. I'm not sure. Maybe it's different when you fall in love?" He smiled and bumped his nose against Blaine's. "But our connection was so _strong_. I felt it under my skin for hours, buzzing and making me feel whole. There's only one thing that has ever felt better than that. But how I knew that I—"

"Wait," Blaine said, squeezing Kurt's hand in his own. "What's the thing that felt better?"

"I…" Kurt looked away from the other boy, blushing.

"Kurt?" Blaine started to grin, liking what this reaction meant.

"I feel ridiculous saying it."

"You shouldn't. I love you, so I'm not going to…I don't know. Judge you. Do whatever it is you're worried I'll do."

Kurt's eyes locked on his then, blazing. "That's it."

"What?"

"_That._ When you said you loved me – when you _say_ you love me. That feeling. That's better."

Blaine stared at him, at the brightness in his eyes, both loving and a little defiant, daring Blaine to laugh at him. Kurt was obviously serious, but Blaine hadn't been expecting that. He had thought it would be something to do with his father, or Finn accepting him fully, or maybe even meeting Blaine, but not that. The knowledge that he was responsible for not just the second-best, but also the best feeling in Kurt's life…the thought set off an expansion of emotion in Blaine's chest. He loved this boy far more than even he understood and knowing that Kurt loved him back just as much if not more was glorious. He couldn't reply; he could only kiss him. It wasn't desperate, but it wasn't slow. It was passionate as each boy tried to put every shred of love he had into the points where their lips met, pressing close to each other in an attempt to give more.

Blaine leaned up slightly on one elbow, angling his face above Kurt's. He licked across the other boy's bottom lip, then bit it lightly. Kurt let out a moan, winding his fingers into the hair at the back of Blaine's head, holding him close to him. He licked, back, tracing the tip of his tongue across each of Blaine's lips, so slowly that it was torturous for the shorter boy. Blaine opened his mouth, unable to handle it any more, and Kurt's tongue dipped inside. Both of them let out a moan which was lost in each other's mouths as their tongues touched, pressing their chests closer together. It became like a dance, Kurt's tongue stroking along Blaine's, licking at his mouth, behind his teeth, tracing over the ridges on his hard palate. Kurt became somewhat enthralled by these, having only ever felt them in his own mouth. There was something about the texture that made his skin tingle. He flicked the tip of his tongue back and forth over them until Blaine was whimpering, gripping Kurt's hip and rocking towards him gently.

When they at last broke apart, they were breathless. Kurt tipped his head away from Blaine in search of more air, his chest rising and falling rapidly against the other boy's. Blood rushed in Blaine's ears as his senses began to recognise the world around him once more, realising there were more things than Kurt in the room. He could feel the bed sheets against his arms where before there was only Kurt pressed against him. He could hear the steady thrum of the central heating, previously inaudible over every tiny breath Kurt took; every noise he made in the back of his throat. Blaine couldn't open his eyes yet, preferring to keep the image of Kurt burned on the inside of his eyelids. His other senses were still wrapped up in the boy beside him: the only thing he could smell was Kurt, the scent surrounding him in a way that made him never want to let it go; he could taste Kurt in his mouth and he thought he would be content with only that for the rest of his life.

Then Kurt spoke, and all of Blaine's senses tunnelled to a pinpoint. "It wasn't…" He took a deep breath, still lightheaded. "There wasn't a specific thought that told me I loved you. It was more of a…feeling. I just intrinsically _knew_, without being able to explain why. At the time, it was this sudden wave of emotion that I had never been prepared to deal with. That's why I told you I loved you, even though I knew you wouldn't know what I meant."

Blaine opened his eyes, turning his head on the pillow to look at Kurt. They were close, so close that Blaine could feel Kurt's breath on his lips, but not close enough that the other boy's features became blurred. "Don't think about that any more. We can't spend the rest of our lives wishing we'd spoken sooner. It was a few months when we were stupid, but we have years to make up for them."

Kurt nodded. The movement looked strange from Blaine's angle, Kurt's forehead tipping towards his eyes and then back. He smiled at how it had moved Kurt that much closer to him so that he had to close his eyes because he couldn't see the other boy properly any more. Kurt took the opportunity to press his lips to Blaine's, only for a second, before curving his spine, tucking his head under Blaine's chin, nose pressed to the other boy's neck and hand splayed across his chest.

"Love you," he sighed against Blaine's skin.

Blaine put an arm around Kurt's back, right at the point where it began to arch inwards, although the curve was less pronounced in Kurt's back than other people's because of his impeccable posture. He grasped the thick fabric of Kurt's sweater in his fist, holding the boy against his chest. "Love you, too."

They stayed in silence for an indeterminable length of time; Kurt tracing nonsensical patterns on Blaine's chest, just like he'd always read about; Blaine just enjoying holding Kurt close to him with both of them completely sure of their emotions. After a while, Kurt stopped moving and Blaine had a suspicion he had fallen asleep. Slightly to ascertain whether the other boy was slumbering, and slightly to satisfy the curious part of his mind that had been wondering ever since the thought first sprung up, he asked, "Do you believe in God, Kurt?"

The faerie tilted his head up on Blaine's chest, eyes a little heavy. His boyfriend could see that, although he was awake, he had certainly been on the brink of sleep. "You're really going for the big questions today," he mumbled. He blinked languidly a couple of times before continuing. "No," he said, a slight crease between his eyebrows. "Why believe in someone who would make me what I am, but make people do terrible things to me because of it? I don't think any higher power could create something as evil as the way others treat people like me."

"So, do you believe in fate? Or destiny?"

The edges of Kurt's lips quirked up in a smile. "It's hard to decide, being the way I am." He sighed, breaking eye contact and picking up his fingertip-traced patterns on Blaine's chest where he had left off. "You have to wonder if who you touch is predestined. For me, I have touched so few people that I can't tell. What if I hadn't shaken hands with Mercedes that day? What if you'd touched my hand in the grocery store and not when we both decided you should? Perhaps that was how it was supposed to happen and there is a list somewhere, naming all the people I will touch in my life. When put like that, it sounds as implausible to me as the idea of a God, but I don't know because there is also the issue of _how_ I connect with people. How did my body know to give me platonic feelings towards Mercedes and romantic ones towards you? Would it have given me the latter kind when I connected with a different girl as a child, even though I would eventually discover that I'm gay? Also, do you get romantic feelings as a child? I don't really know any of it. A lack of experience leaves me ridiculously stilted and that makes answering this even harder."

Blaine tucked a strand of hair behind Kurt's ear, letting it slide through his fingers with something like reverence. He ran his fingers through Kurt's hair, slightly honoured that the other boy didn't growl at him for messing it up. "So you're undecided?" Kurt made a noise of affirmation. "I think that knowing you has made me believe in fate more. It's like I was _meant_ to meet you in the grocery store. We were _supposed_ to do things the way we did. Everything seemed to happen by chance with us. It makes me feel like we're…I think this might sound clichéd."

Kurt kissed Blaine's chest through the fabric of his shirt. "That's okay. I like your clichéd side. It's romantic. I've…I've never had that before."

Blaine picked up Kurt's hand, kissing his knuckles. "Me neither. I was going to say that it's like we're tangled together. Our lives, I mean. Like we were bound to end up this way because of how we were already intertwined."

Kurt propped his chin on Blaine's chest, staring up at the other boy with a smirk on his face, but a soft smile in his eyes. "That's edging on cheesy, but I still love it." He watched Blaine for a moment longer, internally debating whether or not to carry on. "I was thinking about this yesterday, before you came over." Blaine frowned instantly. "Stop it," Kurt said, reading Blaine's expression. "Stop feeling bad about that. We're together now."

"You're still hurting, though," Blaine said, stroking a knuckle along Kurt's cheek. "From Rachel."

Kurt opened his mouth, but, unable to find a reply, closed it again. Blaine being around made him forget about the tiny girl, but now that he had been reminded his heartbreak washed over him again. When Blaine saw Kurt trying to blink away the tears forming in his eyes, he slid down the bed, kissing the other boy swiftly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry."

Kurt just shook his head, fingers clutching at Blaine's arm as he kissed him again. "It's not your fault. Just make me forget about her. She's not ruining today for us, okay?" He brushed back the curls that had fallen over Blaine's forehead. "I love you. That's all that matters."


	17. The Guilty Ones

_Author's Note: Hello again! Now, I raise my hands to the fact that the last chapter was like some fluff parade, but never fear, the angst returns. I think this is mainly due to listening to The Guilty Ones while I wrote this chapter. I would still love it if you'd tag any thoughts you have about this fic on tumblr, or leave reviews, or whatever you like. They're all wonderful. I realised I had anon reviews turned off, but I've changed that now. Thank you!_

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 15 - The Guilty Ones<em>

Blaine handed a paper to Kurt as he unwound his scarf from around his neck, hanging it in the cupboard by the door. "Have you seen this?" he asked, shrugging his coat off his shoulders and letting it join his scarf on the hanger. Kurt unfolded the paper and read the headline, frowning at it. "No, not that," Blaine said, taking the paper back and flipping it a few pages in before handing it back to his boyfriend and pointing at the article he meant. "_That_."

Kurt scanned it quickly. "Yes. It's been on the news for a while. Don't worry about it." He put the paper on a table in the hall and took Blaine's hand, intending to lead him upstairs.

"Don't worry about it?" Blaine dropped the other boy's hand and grabbed the paper again, thrusting it at him. "Kurt, they're trying to take away your _rights_. They can't _do_ that."

Kurt looked away, brushing an imaginary stray hair behind his ear. "Yes, they can. They never wanted us to have them in the first place. All the people whom those laws are trying to protect us from, _they're_ the ones in control of them. There's…there's nothing I can do."

"You can stand up to them, Kurt," Blaine said, stepping closer and running a hand up and down Kurt's forearm. "Call them out."

"And say what?" He lifted his eyes to Blaine, suddenly filled with violent anger. "Tell them what we really are? Like they'd believe that. We're not people to them, Blaine. We're…I'm nothing. I'm just a thing to be fucked."

"Don't talk about yourself like that." Blaine shook his head, a deep frown on his forehead. He pulled Kurt into his arms and although the boy was stiff, he let him. Blaine stroked the back of his head. "You're not that at all, Kurt. You're so much better than that."

"Not to them," Kurt whispered, curving into the other boy, arms tucked between their chests. "Look at me, Blaine. I hide in my house, I cross my fingers and toes and heartstrings that the world would treat me the way you do. I'm scared of them and it makes me feel sick. There are other faeries in the houses of those people, terrified out of their minds, and I can't even bring myself to step out of my front door when there might be people around." He sighed, resting his forehead against Blaine's collarbone. "I disgust myself."

"You shouldn't. It's not bad to keep yourself safe, Kurt."

"I'm sheltered," Kurt said. "I just feel like such a _coward_ sometimes."

"Stop it," Blaine snapped, pulling Kurt away from him, gripping the tops of his arms. "Just _stop_. You're not a coward. You're not disgusting. _They_ are. Look at what they've done to you – what they're _doing_ to you. It's not your fault, Kurt. You were just born this way and you shouldn't be used because of that. You shouldn't have to be scared of what you are."

"But I am," Kurt whispered. He blinked back his tears, steadying his gaze on Blaine's, regardless of how much he wanted to look away. "We all are. This bill will go through with no resistance; our rights will be taken away; we'll become legal sex slaves. All because we're just so fucking _terrified_."

Blaine took in the dullness in Kurt's eyes and the slumped set of his shoulders. He'd never seen Kurt like this. He didn't know the boy could be despondent, hadn't ever been able to imagine him giving up hope or hating parts of himself. He had always seen Kurt as accepting of everything about himself; good, bad and controversial. He wanted to shake the other boy out of it and bring him back to his normal self, but he had to find something else to do. Kurt needed to understand that he wasn't at fault, but Blaine knew even he couldn't fix that in a day. It was a lifetime of self-flagellation that had left Kurt like this.

Kurt's eyes looked away, down to the floor.

"It's very rare for a law to be repealed, especially federally," Blaine said. "It's only happened a few times. Who's to say it will be different this time?"

"They won't have the same scruples about this. We're not people. They don't even think we're human. They won't have to think about the effects too much."

Blaine huffed in frustration. He held Kurt's face in his hands, tilting it towards him, making the other boy look in the eyes. "Kurt, please, at least hope. I need you to hope with me."

"Why should I?" His eyes were still deadened, not giving Blaine any emotion he could read.

"Because you have to. If you don't, what's the point? What's the point of any of it? Why should you remind yourself that you're human every day if you can't even hope enough to fight for your right to be recognised as one?"

Kurt's eyes had over-brimmed now and the tears were making silvery tracks down his cheeks. Blaine hated that tiny part of himself that thought the other boy looked beautiful like this. The situation was not right for that. Kurt drew in a breath, lips quivering. Blaine knew he had been harsh, but he could see something in Kurt's eyes now; a slight defiance, albeit tinged with sorrow. "You're right," Kurt whispered, voice too broken with tears to sound properly. "God, you're always right."

"That's not true," Blaine said with a shake of his head, "but this time I believe I am. You think you're hiding here, and maybe you are, but that doesn't make you a bad person. You just need to have some faith that it's not always going to be this way. You need to have some will to fight this even if it does no good, because it's not just about you, Kurt. It's not even just about faeries," he said, pressing their foreheads together and squeezing his eyes tight shut. "There are the people that love you, too. There's every faerie's family, every faerie's friends. There are all the people that have ever been connected to, even if they don't know it. They _should_ know because you shouldn't have to hide it. There's all of them, all of us. There's _me_, Kurt, and I want you to stand up for yourself the way you've always proved you can."

Blaine felt more than heard Kurt's sob. It reverberated across the air between their lips, jarring into him. Kurt pulled him close, wrapping Blaine up in his arms, and kissed him, heedless of their tears.

* * *

><p>Kurt stuffed his gloved hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, curving his shoulders inwards in an effort to retain more heat in the face of the still-bitter cold of Ohio. He knew shopping at lunchtime was risky, but he couldn't seem to make himself stop and reconsider. He was feeling more trapped than ever in his house now and with no-one to while away the hours with, he had abandoned his work and projects and set his mind on therapeutic grocery shopping. He had reasoned with himself as he laced his boots and buttoned his coat: it was mid-week, a time when barely anyone had the energy to shop; it was lunchtime, which was not exactly a time when people were keen to do bulk shopping. There wouldn't be lines at the checkouts – something Kurt had only seen through his extreme consumption of media, never having had the chance to stand in one himself. It would be safe.<p>

It was inevitable, really, what his thoughts would stray to as he walked. He thought of the small articles stowed a few pages back, the brief stories on the news. He remembered the way Blaine had looked at him that day, like he was utterly helpless. He could still hear Blaine's words in his ears, telling him that he had to hope because, truly, what else was there to do? Blaine had seen into him, known how he would fade into himself, too afraid, too restricted to be anyone. Kurt told himself he was strong and totally accepting of who he was, but he was starting to see the cracks in that. He knew the rights that he deserved – of course he did – but he didn't trust himself to stand up for them. He had started to accept that that was how it would be and prepared himself for a lifetime of even greater concealment.

The central heating of the store hit him as soon as he entered. He slipped his gloves off, stuffing them into a pocket with one hand as he grabbed a basket with the other. As he had suspected, there was barely anyone else around. He walked the aisles he had practically memorised, only seeing one or two people and never getting close enough to them to have to avoid touching them.

He caught it out of the corner of his eye: the flash of woollen tights and painfully vibrant colours. He turned his head instinctively, not quite hoping; not yet. His eyes settled on the back of a tiny teenage girl, her brown hair and garish clothes choices shockingly familiar. Kurt froze, hand in mid-air as he reached towards a shelf, staring at her.

Rachel.

He gasped, dropping his basket to the floor and running towards her. "Rachel," he called, causing the girl to whip her head towards him. It was definitely her. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

He skidded to a stop in front of her, eyes roving up and down her body, unable to believe that it was her, that she was really here, in Lima, Ohio, standing right in front of him. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over him. It was okay. He didn't need to be heartbroken over her any more. The tiny girl continued to speak, frowning up at him, and Kurt was so shocked by her presence that he almost did not hear what she said. "I'm sorry," she said, speaking deliberately, looking confused, "do you I know you?"

Kurt faltered. She didn't know him. He loved her, but she had no idea who he was. She might remember something vague about his face, but she wouldn't be able to give him a name. "I…I'm Kurt," he said. "You – you sang to me and my boyfriend in New York. Well, sang _at _us, sort of."

He watched Rachel's eyes narrow as she considered him, then suddenly snap wide open, filled with an expression he could not understand. "I…" She took a shaky breath in. "I'm sorry, I think you've got the wrong person. I really have no idea who you are."

"But – your name is Rachel, isn't it?"

"Yes – I mean, well, yes. But I'm not…I'm not the person you think I am." She turned away from him, trying to walk away, but Kurt reached out. He almost didn't because of years' worth of habit avoiding physical contact, but he reminded himself that he'd already connected to her, that this would have no effect. So he grabbed her wrist, spinning her back to him. Even though Kurt was sure it was her, the lack of rushing, pounding sensation still shocked him. He could touch this girl. He could feel her skin under the palm of his hand and pressing against the pulse in his thumb and not have to start loving her all over again. He felt almost vindicated: he hadn't just made this girl become her out of some form of desperation; this was truly someone he had touched before.

Rachel stared down at his hand on her skin, a shocked expression on her face. She suddenly wrenched her wrist from him, cradling it to her chest. She looked up at him, terrified, although Kurt could not figure out why.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to grab you. Just…don't leave. I'm _sure_ you're the same girl and I really need to—"

"Don't." She raised her hands in front of her, warding him off. "No. I don't know you. You don't know me. I…" She looked around her, eyes dropping to the basket by her feet. "I have to go." She left her shopping on the floor and, turning from the other faerie, she fled.

Kurt stared after, trying not to let his heart break again.


	18. Howl

_Author's Note: I'm sorry it's been a while since I updated! I just have a lot of things to do now, but I do apologise. Anyway, this chapter didn't exactly follow its plan, but I definitely like it better this way. There's a lot of emotions going on, so prepare yourselves. I feel a bit drained after this!_

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 16 - Howl<em>

"She said she didn't know you?"

Kurt nodded and curled himself closer to Blaine's chest. "She said I'd got the wrong person. But I touched her, Blaine: I _know_ it was her."

Blaine stroked his fingers through Kurt's hair and wiped a tear from his cheek. Kurt was so sick of crying. These past few weeks had been one big wave of pain and he couldn't bear it any more. His breath quivered around a quiet sob as he lay against Blaine's chest and he just wished it wouldn't. He didn't want to cry over Rachel, or corrupt government, or other faeries' pain. He was so _tired_. He felt like he could sleep for the next month. On the other hand, sleep had been difficult lately: there were too many distressing things to think about and he'd lay there, sheets twisted up and around his legs, body contorted into myriad positions and totally unable to rest. He would think about all the things he would lose, had already lost, and suddenly there were too many thoughts and not enough air.

He would cry until his vision felt black around the edges. He'd lie back and try to breathe, everything clawing at him. He could feel it tearing him from the inside out. There were times, as he was slipping between consciousness and slumber, when he'd see it all with his eyes rolled back in his head. He was bound to a wall, bloodied and bruised, staring across at the hollow, large-eyed, delicate-featured girl that had been ripping his life apart. They were chained, both of them, violated. When he woke, sitting up in a cold sweat, he wouldn't understand. He could never figure out why she would be there. She was just a girl. Just a girl from Ohio with a really great voice and Kurt's heart in the palm of her hand.

She was always there, though. It was the pair of them in a dungeon or a bedroom or other bland, dank rooms. Kurt could always tell that Blaine wasn't there; that he didn't know where Kurt was or how to get to him.

The night before, the night after he saw her again, she had been even more bruised than before. She'd stared at Kurt with empty eyes and the memory of it made him shiver in Blaine's arms.

"You know she lives here now," Blaine said and Kurt jerked. He had forgotten where he was. Blaine looked down at him with a frown and cupped Kurt's cheek with his hand. "Hey, what was that?"

"Nothing," Kurt said, voice scratchy with tears. "I just drifted away. You surprised me."

Blaine stared hard at him. Kurt was sure he could see the crack that was forming in his eyes. Blaine brushed a thumb across the dark circle under Kurt's right eye.

"You're not sleeping right," he said.

"I'm fine," Kurt said with a shake of the head. "You're right: she lives here. I must be able to find her again."

Blaine obviously did not want to follow Kurt's change of subject, but he did, frowning. "There's a lot more hope now. I mean, when we thought she lived in New York…" He placed a hand on the back of Kurt's head, guiding it under his chin and wrapping an arm around Kurt's back again. Kurt let it happen, breathing in the scent of Blaine in the hollow at the base of his neck.

Kurt was just about to tell Blaine he loved him when there was a knock on the door. Blaine shifted, trying to get into a more family-friendly position – ideally without any physical contact – but Kurt gripped his forearm to stop him. "Stay," he whispered against Blaine's neck. "Please." Then he called out: "Come in."

The door handle rattled and Kurt knew it was Finn before he even poked his head through the gap. His eyes widened when he took in how Kurt was wrapped in Blaine's arms, curled between his legs and clutching at him with red-rimmed eyes.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"Finn, it's fine. Just come in," Kurt said, closing his eyes briefly. He was so, _so_ tired. Somewhere beyond his eyelids he heard Finn close the door behind him and shuffle towards the bed.

"Er, Kurt," Finn said, and he snapped his eyes open. "Are you okay? You look kind of…upset."

Kurt looked up at Finn and tried to think of what to say. He could feel the warmth of Blaine's body pressed against him, all around him, keeping him safe. Finn's eyes were so wide and Kurt couldn't stop thinking about how tall he was from this angle. He felt detached from his own body. He wasn't really thinking for himself any more.

He thought about the articles. He thought about rich men and expensive suits. He thought about stone walls and chains. He thought about Rachel.

"I'm fine, Finn. Just a bit tired, that's all."

Kurt knew how his father would describe Finn. It was the way Burt described himself: stupid but not dumb. Finn knew Kurt was lying. He could tell just from the way he was clutching at Blaine's shirt. Kurt watched Finn frown in disbelief, but he already knew Finn wouldn't push it. Finn _wasn't_ dumb, after all. He knew when Kurt didn't want to talk.

"It's just been a rough day," Blaine added with a stroke to Kurt's back. Finn's eyes flicked to him, to his arms around Kurt and the weary look in his eyes.

"Okay," he said. "Well, I just…" His whole stance changed then. Suddenly he was fidgety Finn all over again. There was 'I don't want to say this' written all over his face and the nervous fingers tapping against his leg. "Um, I… Kurt, I…"

Kurt turned his face into Blaine's chest. "What did you do, Finn?" There was a small thump and then the mattress was tipping. Kurt turned in Blaine's arms, which wrapped around him more securely as a chin rested on his shoulder, to look at Finn, who was now sitting on his bed. "Just say it," Kurt told him.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to," Finn rushed, reaching a hand towards him in supplication. "I wasn't going to tell you but then I thought that I had to because what if it's really bad and you don't know and… I told Quinn."

Both Blaine and Kurt just frowned at him, not understanding him at all.

"Sorry," Blaine said, "who's Quinn?"

"She's my girlfriend," Finn said, looking panicked. "And I… Kurt, I didn't mean to, I swear." He turned his eyes back to Kurt's. "But you came back from New York so depressed and then there was the whole thing with…" He eyes flicked briefly to Blaine. "I just… I was freaked out, Kurt, and I was worried about you. Mom and Burt wouldn't talk to me about what was going on and I just needed to tell someone and get it off my chest, you know?"

There was silence. Then: "What are you saying?" Blaine asked.

"I told her. I told Quinn you're a faerie."

Kurt could feel Blaine's whole body tense behind him. He could feel Blaine start to shout before he could hear it, and even then it was more like a dull roar. It was all too much. There were too many thoughts. Just when he began to believe this was as bad as it would get, something else had to step to the top of the pyramid. He lay limp in Blaine's arms as he yelled furiously at Finn. Finn's face was crumpling and Kurt vaguely noticed his hands shaking.

Too much. Everything was too much.

He placed a hand on Blaine's leg. He squeezed it gently, just once, and there was silence. He felt Blaine draw back into himself, shocked at his own loss of control. His hands reached up and took Kurt's, locking their fingers together. Kurt leaned his head back against Blaine's chest with a sigh.

"Finn." He didn't say anything else. There was nothing else _to _say. Blaine had done the shouting and the anger. There was nothing more that could be done. Kurt couldn't make Finn take it back. He couldn't stop perfectly normal, human cheerleader Quinn Fabray from knowing his greatest secret. What had been said could not be unsaid, what had been heard could not be unheard, and Kurt just wanted to sleep. He didn't want to berate Finn and tell him he would never trust him again. He was sick of arguing with those few people he had to love him. He was sick of pushing people away and nearly losing them. He had a brother and he wanted to keep him, inability to keep a secret and all.

There were all these things he should say trapped in his throat. It was like his mouth was full of water, his whole body saturated. He couldn't have spoken even if he'd wanted to.

"I'm sorry," Finn said once more. It was so quiet, so full of sorrow and self-loathing that Kurt couldn't even think to hate him. He just shook his head, then shrugged. The series of movements seemed disjointed, but Finn seemed to get what he meant. "You know I never meant to put you in danger."

Kurt nodded and rested his cheek against Blaine chest. He watched Finn out of the corner of his eye, mouth and ears and everything still waterlogged.

"You won't… Kurt, you won't tell Mom and Burt, will you? Your dad would grind me up and sell me as compote."

"Compost," Blaine corrected quietly. Kurt snorted, and then leaned his head back and started to laugh. He couldn't speak, he couldn't say a single word, but this? God, this felt good. He laughed, clutching at Blaine, and Blaine and Finn smiled nervously at him. He probably looked mad, but Kurt didn't really care. He felt a bit manic, really, and he was sure it was caused by sleep deprivation but he had all this hurt bottled up and he just needed to stop for a minute. He needed to pause and forget and laugh. He heard Blaine start to chuckle in his ear, connecting to Kurt's thought process. Finn just watched them in confusion as they laughed, his mouth opening and closing, fish-like.

"What is up with you guys?" he asked eventually. "Are you drunk or something?"

Kurt just laughed harder at that. He leaned into Blaine, wrapping both his arms around the his thigh and shaking against him. Blaine stroked a hand up and down his back, his own laughter subsiding.

"No, Finn," he said, speaking over Kurt's bursts of laughter, "we won't tell Burt." His face suddenly grew very serious. "If you ever do it again, though, we will not be so forgiving. Well…" He broke off and looked at the convulsing Kurt in his arms. "_I_ won't. Kurt may forgive you because he's wonderful like that, but…" He locked eyes with Finn. "He's important to me, Finn. I know you care about him, too, but I just can't let something bad happen to him."

"I get that. I didn't ever want things to turn out this way. I just feel so bad, you have no idea."

Blaine gave him a wan smile. He stroked Kurt's hair as he slowly fell into silence, the only sound from him being the heavy shake of each breath. "Thanks for telling us, Finn," Blaine said, knowing Kurt still wouldn't speak.

Finn shrugged and pushed himself off the bed. "I guess I'll leave you guys." He frowned down at Kurt, and then turned his eyes to Blaine, raising his eyebrows in silent enquiry. Blaine shrugged in reply, worry on every feature. Kurt slipped his fingers into the gaps between Blaine's and Blaine looked down at him, away from Finn. They heard footsteps and the door clicking shut, but neither of them watched Finn leave. Blaine was staring down at Kurt, a deep frown between his eyebrows, and Kurt was avoiding his gaze.

"You're not telling me something."

Kurt turned his head further away, but Blaine slid a hand under his cheek and turned it back to face him. Kurt was forced to look him in the eyes.

"Please, Kurt, what's wrong? You don't look like you've slept for a week and I-I'm worried about you. I love you. You can't start doing this now."

"Don't stress so much, Blaine. You seem to spend all your time turning your hair grey over me. I'm fine."

Blaine pulled Kurt up so he could press their lips together. "You're not. You're just saying that."

"I'm really not." Kurt kissed Blaine back, licking the other boy's bottom lip just once before pulling back. He rested his head in the crook of Blaine's neck once more. "I'm just exhausted."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Reviews for this chapter would be lovely. As always, _**http : / / cirisamorpheus . tumblr . com / **_without the spaces._


	19. Moon and Moon

_Author's Note: I had this really great plan for this chapter. Stuff was going to happen. There was going to be important plot progression and drama and just a bit of angst. But AJ (silverdragon77) is a very convincing person. Blame/thank her entirely for what this chapter became. That being said, I do hope you like it. Please note, this is when the story starts to almost live up to its rating._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 17 - Moon and Moon<em>

Kurt let his eyes drift closed. He didn't really feel his head nodding forwards until he jerked it up again. He snapped his eyes open to see Blaine staring at him in concern from the other side of the table. The boy had papers strewn out across the kitchen table as he worked on one of his projects, but he had been distracted by the way Kurt kept falling asleep over his book.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asked. Kurt could say he was fine as many times as he liked, but Blaine could tell that he was pale even for him, and those dark circles were not normal.

Kurt just waved a graceful hand at him. "I am. Keep working. You're just procrastinating."

Blaine dropped his pen to the table and leaned back in his chair. "Stop it, Kurt."

Kurt turned the page of his book even though he hadn't read it and raised his eyebrows, avoiding eye contact. "Stop what?"

"Stop lying to me. I hate it." Blaine saw Kurt's eyes pause in their movements and his shoulders tense up. "You can carry on saying you're 'fine' and tell yourself that you're just keeping something from me, that that's not the same. But to me, Kurt, I feel like you're lying and I don't want that to happen to us. You're supposed to tell me things. That's what you do when you love someone." He reached across the table and took Kurt's hand. "Kurt, look at me."

The other boy placed his book on the table, blinking a couple of times to clear his head and eyes before looking up at his boyfriend. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, Blaine. I don't want you to think that I don't…trust you. It's just better this way."

"Why? Because I won't be as worried about you? Keeping things from me makes me worry, Kurt. I'm so stressed because I can see there's something important that you're keeping from me – something that's really hurting you – and I can't stand it."

Kurt raised their joined hands and pressed his lips to Blaine's knuckles. "Why can't I just handle this on my own? Why do I have to cause you unnecessary pain?"

"Because you're _not_ handling it. You don't look like you've slept for days and that whole thing with Finn yesterday? It was…kind of scary, Kurt. You just didn't say anything. It wasn't you and I don't want to see you turn into some sort of shell because of whatever this is."

"I feel empty right now."

"What do you mean?"

Kurt sighed. "You said I'll turn into a shell of a person. I already feel like I'm becoming one. I'm…I feel hollow inside sometimes and I just can't _bear_ it. I don't want to be this way."

"Kurt, just tell my why, please." Blaine could see Kurt debating with himself. He watched the boy bite his lip and look away, tapping his fingernail against the underside of the table. He looked so tense and Blaine just wanted to reach across and smooth away all the worry Kurt had pent up in his tight shoulders.

"I-I can't sleep," Kurt said eventually. "I just lie there sometimes because I'm…I'm afraid to fall asleep. Mostly I just can't make myself rest, but whenever I do, it's…" He looked at Blaine with a hopeless expression in his eyes. "I have these dreams; nightmares, really. They're always the same and I can't figure out how to make them stop."

Blaine stood up, walking around the table to take the seat next to the other boy. He pulled Kurt's head onto his shoulder, stroking his tense neck. "What happens?"

Kurt breathed in the smell of Blaine, letting himself become wrapped up in the other boy. He paused for a while, trying to think how to begin, and then he just gave in. He let himself talk about it, allowed himself to tell Blaine everything. He gripped Blaine's hand tightly and told him about the dungeons with dripping ceilings; about Rachel and about being far from Blaine; about the sensation of knowing he had been raped and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He heard Blaine stifle a gasp a couple of times, each cut-off sound accompanied by a squeeze to Kurt's hand.

He fell into silence, closing his eyes and pressing his face into Blaine's neck while the other boy processed what he had been told. Blaine swallowed, making his skin press against Kurt's for a moment and the taller boy just breathed deeper. If he had known that telling Blaine would make him feel this much better he would have done it in a heartbeat.

"I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"It's not your fault."

"I-I know. But…I'm still sorry that you've had to live with this. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I took you to New York, and held your hand without gloves, and didn't tell you I loved you and—"

"Shh." Kurt pressed a kiss to Blaine's neck. He reached up a hand to cup Blaine's cheek and turned the boy's head to him, pressing their lips together. "Don't," he said against his boyfriend's lips. He kissed Blaine hard, lips moving purposefully over the other boy's. "Don't even think that," he said when he pulled back. "Just…God, Blaine, I just want to sleep." He laughed softly and felt Blaine grin.

"Come on." Blaine pulled Kurt up and let him lead the way to the staircase. Blaine walked behind him, hands on the other boy's hips, and when Kurt started to climb the stairs, he pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. Kurt placed his hands over Blaine's, fingers in the dents between the knuckles.

Kurt shut the door behind them and began to pull of his cardigan before sitting on his bed and slipping off his boots and undoing the buttons of his shirtsleeves. When he started to unbutton his shirt, Blaine broke in. "Uh, Kurt, do you want me to leave?"

"What?" The boy looked up at him like he had forgotten he was there. "No, you can just turn around whenever you want to."

"Kurt…"

"Blaine, it's fine," Kurt said, undoing the buttons on his shirt. "I'm okay with you seeing my chest." He gave Blaine a grin.

The other boy just turned his head away, trying not to look as Kurt shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. "Kurt, are you sure? I mean, it's only been a week since we…"

"But I've known you for months. I've been in love with you for months." Kurt stood up and walked over to Blaine, taking his hand. "I'm happy with this as long as you are."

"I…" Blaine's eyes flicked to Kurt's chest momentarily, then away again quickly. He gulped. "I love you."

"That's not really an answer, Blaine," Kurt said with a soft smile, lifting Blaine's hand to his mouth and pressing his lips to it. "If you're not ready to watch me put my pyjamas on, that's fine. If you are, that is also fine. Okay?"

Blaine nodded. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head, before turning towards Kurt. Immediately, almost against his will, his eyes roved up and down the other boy's naked chest, from his exposed collar bones to the dip of his hips into his jeans. "Fuck."

Kurt blushed and laughed, twining his fingers into Blaine's hair and pulling him into a kiss. It was already so much hotter than any they had shared and Kurt bit Blaine's lip almost possessively, sucking on it hard. Blaine moaned and stepped closer, unthinkingly bringing a hand to Kurt's hip. He gasped into the other boy's mouth when he felt smooth skin under his palm. He dropped Kurt's hand to lift his own to the boy's other hip. He pressed his tongue into Kurt's mouth as he stroked his palms up Kurt's sides. Kurt moaned and arched towards him as Blaine brushed over his ribs, then back down. When he pressed his fingers into Kurt's hips, the other boy hooked his fingers into Blaine's belt-loops and dragged him closer. He trailed his fingers around Blaine's belt, playing with the hem of his shirt. Blaine pulled out of the kiss, breathing hard, and started pressing his lips across Kurt's jaw, down his neck.

"You're amazing," he growled against Kurt's skin before starting to suck on it. Kurt leaned his head back and moaned, not replying. He let the tips of his fingers edge under Blaine's shirt, just sliding against the hot skin. Blaine moaned and bit Kurt's neck hard. Kurt lifted one hand to the back of Blaine's head, twining his fingers into the other boy's hair, scratching his nails a little against Blaine's scalp. Blaine let out a choked sound against Kurt's skin, stopping for a second, only pressing soft, barely-there kisses to Kurt's neck. The other boy pushed his hand a little further under Blaine's shirt, letting his fingers trail through the hair on the boy's stomach. "Kurt," Blaine whispered, his voice breaking. Kurt licked at the shell of Blaine's ear, tugged on his hair and then he was gone. He pulled away and left Blaine reaching out for him. "Kurt, what—?"

"I'm supposed to be changing, Blaine," Kurt said, a feral glint in his eye as took Blaine's hands and turned them, guiding the other boy towards the bed. "Sit," he instructed, and Blaine did as he was told. He slumped onto the bed and just stared at Kurt as he reached down to unbutton his jeans. Once he had undone them, Kurt began to shimmy them off and Blaine gasped. He could see Kurt's erection through his briefs, so very obvious as he pulled the jeans off his legs.

"K…" He swallowed, tried again. "Kurt."

"Are you still okay?" Kurt's expression had suddenly switched back to caring, all traces of reckless desire completely gone as he surveyed the other boy.

"God, yes," Blaine said, reaching a hand out to him. "If you are."

Kurt pushed Blaine's hand back to his side and reached for the hem of the other boy's shirt again. He tugged on it, raising his eyebrows at Blaine, and he took the hint. He lifted his arms above his head and let Kurt pull the shirt off him and drop it to the floor. Kurt stood between Blaine's knees and stared down at him. He ran his hands flat over Blaine's shoulders, down his arms, then back up. He bit his lip before stroking down Blaine's chest, catching his nipples and making the other boy gasp.

"You're so beautiful," he said as he scratched his fingernails back up Blaine's chest.

"So –" Blaine shuddered and arched towards Kurt's hands – "so are you."

Kurt couldn't help himself: he had to lean down and press kisses to Blaine's shoulders, to his clavicles, one right in the centre of his sternum. He lifted one of Blaine's arms gently and kissed the inside of the boy's elbow. He let his nose rest there for a second, then kissed the spot again and lowered the limb back to the bed. He cupped Blaine's face with his hands, tilting the boy's face towards him. "I love you," he said, and Blaine only had time to smile in reply before Kurt was kissing him again.

It was slower this time, with Kurt leading them. He let his lips slide languorously over Blaine's, breaking away to press them to the corner of the boy's mouth, then back again. He licked a slow, hot stripe across Blaine's bottom lip and the other's boy's mouth parted in response. Kurt broke this kiss again and Blaine whined.

"No," he whispered, hands grabbing Kurt's hips.

"Shh. I just couldn't bend like that any more," Kurt said, stroking a hand through Blaine's hair. Then he placed a hand on each of the boy's shoulders and climbed into his lap. He kept himself raised up on his knees, hips just hovering above Blaine's as he pushed the other boy back onto the bed. Blaine stared up at him, running his hands up and down Kurt's back, revelling in the softness of Kurt's skin. Kurt kissed Blaine's forehead before balancing his weight on one arm and reaching the other between them. His fingers fumbled to undo the button of Blaine's jeans.

"Here," Blaine said, taking over, letting Kurt put his weight on both hands again. He slid his jeans over his hips, pushing them to his knees and kicking them the rest of the way off. He looked up at Kurt again. "Okay?"

The other boy smiled down at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way that made Blaine want to kiss them. "Yeah," he murmured. He bumped his nose against Blaine's cheek, then pressed their lips together again. He started where they had left off, pressing his tongue into Blaine's mouth, tangling it with the other boy's. They both moaned and Blaine arched off the bed a tiny bit. As he did so, his hips brushed against Kurt's. Blaine slid his hands down Kurt's back and pressed on the boy's lower back. Kurt didn't even try to resist. He let his hips rock down into Blaine's and they broke from their kiss immediately, moaning. Kurt pressed his lips to Blaine's neck as the shorter boy threw his head back.

Kurt thrust experimentally and suddenly they could feel their erections rubbing against each other through the fabric and –

"Fuck," Blaine moaned.

Kurt whined, lips finding Blaine's as he thrust again. He rocked into the other boy, both of them gasping at the friction. Kurt started up a rhythm, thrusting his hips slowly against the Blaine's, each feeling the length of the other boy's cock sliding against his own, even through the material of their underwear. Kurt licked at Blaine's mouth, around his teeth, along his tongue, and Blaine just moaned beneath him. The shorter boy slid his hands further, over Kurt's ass, and pulled him harder against him.

Kurt's lips left Blaine's as he began to thrust with greater force. He kissed Blaine's jaw, bit the lobe of his ear, licked at the dip behind it, hips snapping faster all the while. Blaine was keening beneath him, fingers scrabbling at Kurt's back, and Kurt could feel the noise vibrating from Blaine's throat onto his lips. The other boy started to thrust back into him, meeting his hips each time they rocked down, and Kurt let out a shout of pleasure. His fingers grabbed at the sheets on either side of Blaine's head, anchoring himself.

Blaine writhed beneath him, bucking his hips up, trying to get any more friction. He was muttering nonsense in Kurt's ear, hot breath spilling across Kurt's skin and just adding more sensation to his already overwrought body.

"Blaine, I…"

"I know. God, Kurt, _I know_."

They moved even faster then, falling out of rhythm but not really caring because they were so close. Kurt kissed Blaine hard and without finesse, but that didn't matter. He thrust his hips twice more and suddenly there were stars across his vision as he was coming, rocking hard against Blaine. The other boy, feeling Kurt come against him, let out a deep moan, every muscle in his body tensing as he joined him. He dug his nails into the skin of Kurt's back as they rocked through their orgasms together.

At last, they stopped. Kurt slumped onto Blaine, all his weight falling onto the other boy. Their chests were pressed flush against each other, sticky with sweat, and Kurt was lifted slightly with every deep, shuddering breath Blaine took. After a few moments like that, Kurt rolled to the side, off the other boy. They both lay on their backs, panting as they stared at the ceiling. Blaine's hand reached blindly until it found Kurt's and entwined their fingers. He stroked his thumb across the back of it as they lay there, their breathing eventually slowing, their heart-rates dropping.

Blaine turned his head to look at Kurt. He had intended to say something about what they had just done, or tell him he loved him, but the other boy had his eyes closed and a blissful expression on his face. Blaine smiled, watching his boyfriend sleep peacefully for what he knew was the first time in too long. He reached towards the end of the bed, not letting go of the hand between their bodies, and grabbed the blanket folded there. He spread it over Kurt and himself before settling onto his back again. He knew they were lying the wrong way on the bed, that they should get up and take showers and maybe put on clothes in case someone came home, but Blaine couldn't make himself care. He was not about to wake the beautiful boy next to him and also, he realised as he closed his eyes, he was feeling pretty exhausted himself. He listened to the deep breaths of Kurt's slumber and allowed himself to drift off.


	20. Whispering

_Author's Note: It's been forever, I know. I'm sorry, I still love you all, I was just really busy. I have two weeks of holiday now, so it should be better for a bit! At the end of the last chapter I realised that, horrifically, there wasn't enough Blaine in this story (which is actually pretty shocking when you think about it). So, I give you Blaine-centric chapter 18._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 18 - Whispering<em>

Blaine shrugged off his Dalton blazer as he kicked his front door shut behind him. He called out in greeting and was answered by his mother's voice from the kitchen. He hooked his blazer onto the knob on the banister and went through to her. She smiled at him, tilting her head in that way that he hated. Her hands fluttered around a pot of flowers, pulling at stems as her eyes glassed over a little.

"Hello, darling. Good day?"

He turned from her to the fridge, opening it more for something to do than to find something to eat. "Fine. Had a French test, there was lasagne for lunch, Warblers practice."

"Did it run late last week?"

"What?" He turned with a carton of orange juice in his hand, frowning at her as he grabbed a glass from a cupboard and poured himself some.

"You were back later than usual. Practice doesn't normally go on that long. You're home practically early today." Her voice was soft, emotionless. She carried the vase to a table in the hall.

"No, it finished on time," Blaine called out to her. He took a gulp of juice as she came back and tried to think of something he could have been doing for hours every day that wasn't spending time with his secret faerie boyfriend. "I went for coffee with Wes and David a lot last week. David's…uh, having relationship problems. It took a while."

She nodded, pursed her lips just the slightest bit, and held out a delicate hand for his now empty glass. He handed it to her, watching her carefully as she washed it and returned it to the cupboard.

"You've been late a lot lately," she said at last. "You barely get home before your father does. You don't, sometimes." She wasn't quite making eye contact with him, but was staring at his forehead while lifting a hand to stroke her fingers through his hair.

"I-I've started to do work at school," Blaine said, trying not to let his voice shake. "I can get distracted at home. I don't – I don't want to get behind."

Her gaze shifted and she stared into his eyes for a couple of seconds. Blaine tried desperately to hide his nervousness, to bury any thoughts of Kurt deep inside where she couldn't find them. Her lips parted a little and he knew he'd failed. She patted his cheek, gave a tight smile and stepped away, turning back to the doorway.

"Your father will be home soon," she said as she walked away. "Put on an ironed shirt before then."

Blaine watched her climb the stairs, all his muscles tense, fingers gripping the edge of the granite countertop with skin squeezed free of blood from the pressure. He heard her bedroom door close and pushed himself up, breathing heavily. He hadn't known it would be this hard. He looked down at himself, seeing the tiny stain of blue on his trouser-leg from that time Kurt had pricked his finger with a pin while trying a new garment on Blaine that wouldn't wash out; the way his newly polished shoes shined because Kurt insisted he couldn't go another day with scuffed toes. His boyfriend was all over his body, screaming out to be noticed. Blaine wanted so much to just let it happen: he wanted to tell his parents he'd fallen in love with a boy, with a _faerie_ boy, and that that was where he was every afternoon, evening and weekend.

He started to unbutton his shirt as he climbed the stairs. He threw it into the wash basket and took a new one from the cupboard, making sure it was fully pressed before hanging it on his door. He'd put it on when his father got home.

He lay back across his bed and threw an arm over his eyes. He couldn't keep it up, he was sure. He came back from seeing Kurt so happy, so ready to tell the world about them, only to have to hide it. It wasn't just for him – it really wasn't. There was part of him that was afraid of telling his parents he was in love with a boy that he couldn't deny. His main concern, however, was how it would affect Kurt. If he started to tell people, word of his existence would get out, just as it had with Quinn. He hated that he had to keep Kurt locked up inside him and couldn't slip him into conversation. He wanted his friends to be able to tease him and ask him questions to make him blush. He wanted his mother to give him a knowing smirk when he came back with his hair out of place and gently push him up the stairs to tame it before his father saw.

He wanted some sort of proof that his relationship with Kurt – that the boy himself wasn't just his imagination. He wanted going outside together, going on dates. Sitting in coffee shops and having to worry about whether they'd be accepted by those around them or not. Holding hands in public, kissing in the street, ignoring all scathing looks they'd receive in return. He almost wanted that experience of having people he didn't know judge him just so he'd have any kind of experience at all.

He thought back to Kurt. He saw the his smile and imagined making him laugh where other people could see. He thought about flirting when they shouldn't just because they wanted to.

Images of Kurt laughing quickly changed to ones of Kurt kissing him, then of Kurt above him, pressing him back into the bed with his hips, throwing his head back and moaning.

Blaine sat up. Something twisted in his stomach and he pulled his knees up to his chest. He knew he should be happy about what he and Kurt had done and rushing to do it over and over and over again, but there was something pressing around his heart and gripping it with fingers he couldn't pry away. It had been too soon, it had to have been. He had been ready for it and Kurt had said, had assured him he was fine with it. But what if he'd been caught up in the moment? What if Kurt was lying in his room now, curling in on himself with regret Blaine had triggered? He felt like he'd taken advantage of Kurt's exhaustion and trust in his boyfriend and perhaps, just perhaps, his faerie nature.

Blaine had thought more about faeries since he met Kurt than he had ever predicted he would. He had ached for weeks over how people could be so blind and so heartless; lain awake for hours wondering how Kurt was strong enough to deal with a lifetime of this when Blaine couldn't even survive a day; wondered time and again just _how_ the story had been changed to something so impure in comparison to the truth. A thought had presented itself, one that Blaine had tried to push away, but it kept coming back. He'd gone over and over it in his head and thought out all the reasons for it to be true. He'd compared it to what he knew about Kurt and all the things he had learned about him since the first time they kissed. Now Blaine couldn't stop the thought from becoming his own mental reality.

What if Kurt was more receptive to physical contact? What if all faeries were? If it were just built into their anatomy with the purpose of furthering humanity, just as Kurt had said the faerie gene mutation was, then was it such a jump to have been made from love to lust?

He had become convinced that this was the truth despite how much he tried to stop himself. Because of this Blaine couldn't stop feeling guilty for what he had done. It didn't matter that Kurt had initiated it: Blaine shouldn't have let it continue. If it had been any other relationship it wouldn't have happened so soon, Blaine was sure. He had taken from Kurt when he shouldn't have. He had given in when he should have refused.

He had left Kurt to sleep with a message of love inked on the inside of his wrist on Friday night and returned to his dark house, climbing the stairs as quietly as he could and curling up in his bed. It was only when he woke up the next morning that what they had done really sank in. He sent off a text to Kurt with shaking hands, saying he had too much work to see him that weekend. The reply had been confused, but it didn't seem like Kurt was too worried. Blaine had barely been able to concentrate on his mostly fabricated schoolwork: he had a cyclical thought pattern – what he and Kurt had done, how amazing it had felt, how he'd like to do it again, _no he absolutely should not_, he had taken advantage, what had he done? And back again, round, order barely ever varying.

He let his body tip to the side so he was curled in foetal position. He put an arm under his head and gripped the skin of his forearm with his teeth to stop himself from crying. He wasn't supposed to feel this way. He should be happy about it and he _was_ – he'd loved it. He just felt that he'd done wrong by Kurt. Even if Blaine's theory wasn't correct, neither of them had ever been in a relationship before and Kurt had never thought he'd be able to be. They shouldn't be pushing things like this.

Blaine's phone rang on the covers beside his head and he picked it up, only noticing it was Kurt as he accepted the call. He held the device to his ear, feeling sick again.

"Hi," Kurt said, "how are the assignments going?"

Blaine could almost see the look on Kurt's face – that bright, hopeful, totally in love one that made him want to kiss him forever. "Hey," he said in soft reply. "They're fine."

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Blaine traced his forefinger in circles on his covers.

"You just sound…despondent." There was a pause, an intake of breath. "We haven't talked since Friday, not properly. Are you…are you upset with me? About what we did?"

"I'm not upset with you, Kurt."

"What about the other thing?"

Blaine pressed his face into the bed. He couldn't lie. He couldn't just go ahead and say it was fine, everything was just perfect, because it _wasn't_. He turned his head to the air again. "I'm worried."

When he didn't elaborate, Kurt spoke again. "Why?"

"Do you think it was too soon?"

Blaine heard a sigh and the sound of Kurt sitting on something, probably his bed. "No, Blaine, I don't. Not for me. Please don't worry about that. Unless…unless it's you. Oh, Blaine, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you—"

"Kurt, no. No. You didn't make me. I'm just – I wish – I feel like I'm doing this wrong."

"What?"

"_This_. Us. Everything. I don't know what I'm doing and I feel like I'm messing it up. We shouldn't have gone so far so soon, Kurt: it's not normal."

"Nothing about us is really 'normal', Blaine. Are you…?" Blaine could hear Kurt sigh in frustration at his inability to find the right words. Kurt was always so eloquent, so situations like this were infuriating. Blaine knew Kurt was trying to choose his words and he could hear the struggle it was causing.

"Kurt, tell me what you're thinking. It won't hurt me."

Kurt stayed silent for another moment and Blaine was sure he was biting his lip. "Why do you feel like you have to protect me? I've been sheltered my whole life, Blaine. I don't need you to do that. I don't _want_ you to. You make me feel, well, _normal_ and like everything we do is right. I can't go in circles with you, building trust on my end when it's not there on yours."

"I trust you, Kurt," Blaine broke in, voice clearer than it had been since the beginning of the conversation. "Don't ever think that I don't. That's not the problem, I promise you. It's all me, Kurt. It's me and my stupid need to do everything right all the time. I want to be the perfect boyfriend who doesn't push you. I wanted to be the perfect best friend who didn't show his true feelings for you because I thought there was nothing you could do about them. I want…I wanted to be the perfect son for my parents. I wanted to be straight and boring and _normal_ for so long, Kurt, but you saved me from that. I trust you more than anyone else because you know all the parts of me and you still love me. Sometimes it scares me because my _everything_ is open to you, but then I remember that I have that from you in return. You know me inside and out and that means I shouldn't worry about trying to be perfect for you but it doesn't. It makes me want to try harder and…" He broke off, voice caught in his throat.

"_Blaine_," Kurt whispered in a voice so plaintive that it made Blaine sob. "Oh, Blaine, you…I just want _you_. I want you however you are. You did nothing wrong, okay? You didn't push me or hurt me or ruin our relationship. I still love you."

Blaine sniffed and curled his knees closer to him. His bare skin was cold now and he knew he would start to shiver soon. "I love you."

"I know. I need to see you tomorrow. I just want to hold you."

"I needed you so much today," Blaine said, voice less shaky now as he breathed more steadily. "I think my mom knows I lied to her about what I do after school. It's awful, Kurt. She just looks at me with these dead eyes, like she's not even a person any more. She's been like this since I came out and I just want to hate her, but I can't."

"I'm sorry," Kurt said, voice still full of pain for the other boy. "I didn't know—"

Blaine heard his front door open and close and the click of his mother's heels on the wooden floor of the hallway. There was the hum of his parents' voices through the floor of his room.

"Kurt, I have to go. My dad's home."

"But, Blaine—"

"I'm sorry. Don't worry about me, please. I'm just…it's been a bad day. I'm fine. I love you."

"I love you, too," Kurt said. Blaine could hear the resignation in the reply.

"I promise I'll come over tomorrow. Bye." He hung up, dropping his phone onto the bed and rushing to pull on the shirt he had set out while trying not to wrinkle it. He buttoned the cuffs and pulled open his bedroom door.

"—he was lying to me, darling, I'm sure he was. I don't know what he's doing, but if he won't tell us outright I think it's—"

Blaine let his feet fall heavily on the stairs. His mother's voice stopped immediately and she turned to him with another of those smiles when he reached the bottom step. He turned his eyes from her to his father. "Hi, Dad. How was your day?"

"Tiring," he replied with greater ease than Blaine had expected. He pressed a hand to the small of his wife's back, guiding her towards the dining room. "I'm starving."

Blaine followed his parents to the table, not listening to his mother's chatter about what she had prepared. He sat down and dished his food without really noticing what he was doing. He spent the meal mostly in silence, eating while his parents talked around him and wondering why being in love had to be so complicated.


	21. Need You Now

_A/N: _Hi! I know it's been a while. Hopefully some people saw my message on the last chapter about this update. As is always the way, shortly after I posted that, I had time to write, so this chapter is here faster than I actually expected. This time, I want to thank the lovely sillygleekt on LJ for beta-ing for me - some glorious things have happened as a result. I know some people were yearning for plot progression. Well, it's lucky this chapter contains lots of things, isn't it? It ran away with itself. I hope you enjoy this after the wait!__

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 19 - Need You Now<em>

Blaine snuggled closer to Kurt on the sofa, nudging his head under his chin. He had pushed into the house before Kurt could even open the door properly and had thrown his arms around him. Kurt had just held him like that for a few minutes before leading them to the couch. Blaine had immediately manoeuvred them so they were stretched out across it and had curled as close to Kurt as he could, laying his legs over Kurt's and hooking one foot between his calves, arm around his waist, head buried in his neck with his own back pressed into the couch cushions. Kurt had laughed a little, but had wrapped his arms tightly around Blaine's back and tilted his body inwards, bringing them only closer, so that Blaine was lying across his chest.

Kurt traced tiny circles around one of his vertebrae, stroked a hand flat up Blaine's back and tangled his fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Blaine hummed and pressed a light kiss to the curve of his neck. He nudged his nose across Kurt's skin, following the tendon up and pressing barely-there kisses to his jaw. Kurt's eyes fluttered closed and the fingertips of his other hand slipped under the waistband of Blaine's trousers, sliding over the soft skin of his hip. Blaine paused with his lips by Kurt's ear, kissing the shell once and just resting there. Kurt turned his head, bringing them face-to-face, and Blaine slid a hand up his chest to cup the side of his neck. Their eyes locked; Blaine's hand lifted from Kurt's neck, the tips of his fingers running over the skin of his cheek and over his cheekbone to hover over his brow, tracing between it and Kurt's temple as he stared unblinkingly at him. Kurt watched him with contentment settled deep in his eyes, pulling Blaine in, helpless to stop himself. Blaine nuzzled his nose against Kurt's and at last closed his eyes, smiling as he felt Kurt's breath across his lips.

He felt Kurt's head tilt and then he was kissing him, slowly, and with more love than Blaine had thought possible for a gesture so small. They broke apart, but only just, their lips still brushing against each other as they breathed.

"Kurt," he whispered – the first word he had said to him that day. "I—"

"Shh." Kurt pecked his lips. "Don't." His whisper was low, so quiet that Blaine could barely hear it. "Just be here with me. Don't think about anything else."

Blaine smiled again and he knew Kurt could feel it. He tilted his chin up and Kurt complied with the unspoken request and pressed their lips together. It was more this time: lips moving against each other, pressing harder; shuddering breaths against each other's mouths; Blaine shifting, sliding up, so that his face was above Kurt's, coaxing him with kisses deeper into the couch and licking across his bottom lip. Kurt pulled back, a smile still on his lips, and Blaine slumped a little, resting on him. He kissed the corner of Kurt's mouth, let his lips slide across his cheek and then curved around his neck, resting his face against Kurt's there. Kurt kissed the top of his head, then settled back into the couch cushions, holding Blaine close to him.

They stayed like that for some indeterminate time. Their eyes fell shut and their breathing matched up as they absorbed each other. They were so warm, wrapped together, and neither could remember being more content to simply be with another person.

When they heard the sound of Finn coming through the front door, football bag banging against the wall and the hat stand, they almost expected it. They'd been in a state of placid stasis – the kind that everyone knows won't last. Blaine tilted his head up and kissed the underside of Kurt's chin before pushing himself up. They rearranged themselves into sitting positions, hands clasped and Blaine's head dropping to rest on Kurt's shoulder.

Finn came in, dropping his bag on the floor and heading towards the kitchen, waving vaguely over his shoulder at them. "Hey."

"Hi, Finn," Blaine said, voice slow and happy-drugged.

"How was football practice?"

"Uh..." They heard the fridge open and close and a drawer crash. "Pretty bad, actually. Coach Beiste was in a really bad mood for some reason."

They fell silent, the sound of Finn making a sandwich for himself fading into the background. Blaine stared down at their joined hands, stroking his thumb slowly back and forth across Kurt's knuckle. Kurt stretched one of his fingers out to brush the tip against Blaine's knee, just a tiny point of contact. Blaine smiled blissfully and closed his eyes.

He heard Finn drop into one of the armchairs and start to eat. They pulled apart a bit, albeit reluctantly.

"How's Dalton, Blaine?" Finn asked around a large bite.

"Good. Preparing for Regionals, so the pressure's on for the Warblers."

Finn grinned and started in on amicable, opposing-team ribbing and attempts to wheedle the setlist out of Blaine. Kurt smiled and leaned more against Blaine as the boys talked. Lying with Blaine had tugged him into a warm, sleepy state and he yawned. Blaine turned to him, finishing up his conversation with Finn.

"You're sleeping okay now, right?" Blaine traced the skin under Kurt's eyes before remembering Finn was there and dropping his hand.

Kurt smiled gently at him. "Yeah. All thanks to you of course." He nudged his nose against Blaine's cheek and winked at him. Finn coughed slightly and placed his now-empty plate on the coffee table, but Kurt ignored him. "I'm done with letting Rachel Berry ruin my life."

"What?" Finn's head shot up.

"Nothing, Finn."

"No, Kurt, what did you say?"

Kurt frowned at him. "I said I'm sick of being broken-hearted over her."

"_No_," Finn said with a shake of his head. "Her name. What did you call her?"

Kurt opened his mouth, then paused and tilted his head at him. Blaine shifted beside him, sliding forward in his seat on the couch and leaning towards Finn. "Why?" Blaine asked.

Finn shifted towards them in his seat. "Just – Kurt, say her name again."

"Rachel. Rachel Berry."

Finn's eyes, already wide, only grew in size. Kurt had never seen him look so shocked.

"Finn, what is it?"

"Oh my god." Suddenly, an almost manic grin broke out on his face and he jumped out of his seat. "Oh my god, Kurt, Rachel Berry. _Rachel Berry_."

"Finn, what—?"

"Kurt, I know her! She goes to McKinley. Everyone thinks she's really weird because she avoids people a lot and has this amazing voice but won't join Glee Club and I think she might just be lonely. But she's—"

Blaine stood up, dropping Kurt's hand. Kurt was sitting, frozen, staring at his brother. "Finn," Blaine said, cutting Finn off, "are you sure? Is...Do you really know her?"

"Yes! Kurt, dude, this is awesome! Why didn't you say her name before? You could have found her."

Blaine turned to Kurt. He finally moved, looking up at his boyfriend. Blaine's eyes were bright with happiness, his features painted with relief and excitement. Kurt shook his head slightly. "Blaine." Then he laughed, a blissful release of tension. "_Blaine_."

Blaine sat down beside him again, grinning widely, and cupped Kurt's face in his hands, resting his forehead against Kurt's. "I know," he gasped out around a laugh. "I _know_."

Kurt gripped Blaine's shoulders and turned to Finn. "Tell me about her. What's she like?"

"Well," Finn said, rubbing the back of his head, "I don't really know. Like I said, she doesn't talk to people much. Glee club goes to the auditorium sometimes and she's singing, but that's basically all I see of her. Oh, and she wears gloves all the time. It's totally weird. Santana says it's to hide her hairy hobbit hands, but I seriously don't think that's true." Finn sat down again. "Yeah, it's weird. I never see her in the hallways and she always... I dunno, it's like she doesn't want to touch people. She keeps really far away from everyone, like, stepping around them while she's walking or whatever. And she's never in the hallways."

"You seem to know a lot about her for a girl you've never talked to," Kurt teased.

"I just think she looks nice," Finn said, raising his hands in protest. "I feel bad for her, you know? I guess I just notice her because of that."

Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes.

"Kurt."

Kurt looked at Blaine, confused by his tone.

"I think... Can I put out a theory and you just tell me whether I'm crazy or not?"

"Sure," Kurt said with a slight frown.

"You said she avoids people," Blaine confirmed, glancing back at Finn, who nodded. He turned back to Kurt. "She doesn't just stay away from them. She tries not to be physically near them. She avoids touching people."

"Blaine," Kurt warned.

"No, listen. So she ran away from you, right? And when you grabbed her hand, what did she do?"

"She... she looked terrified. Blaine, please, don't tell me you're—"

"But, Kurt, just think about it. She wears gloves to school," he said, starting to tick off a list on his fingers, "she avoids physical contact, she—"

"She purposefully touched both of us in New York. Blaine, it doesn't make sense."

"_Why_? Why can't it make sense? There could be a reason for her doing that, Kurt. We have no idea!"

"We also have no idea whether what you're implying is actually true. That is a _big_leap to take, Blaine."

"That doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"Um," Finn broke in, "what are you guys talking about?"

Kurt stared hard at Blaine for a second, but he didn't back down. "Blaine seems to be under the impression that Rachel Berry is a faerie."

Finn gaped, but sat back in his chair and frowned. "Well..."

"Oh, Finn, please tell me you're not seriously considering this. It's ridiculous."

"No, Kurt, wait," Finn said, evidently thinking hard. "I actually...Yeah, you know, that kind of does make sense. Like, a lot of sense."

Kurt tried to break in and protest, but Finn held up a hand.

"Why wouldn't she join Glee Club if she's such a good singer? We know she loves performing and we know she doesn't really care about her... social rank or whatever. She'd have to dance with us if she did. She'd have to touch people. Also, gloves? You guys used to have that thing, remember? It makes sense. She never has any skin bare except, like, her face and neck. I don't think that's her just being... frigid. She just won't let people touch her. There was one time I saw her in the hall between classes and a guy reached out to hold her arm for some reason and she literally jumped away from him. I just thought she was being weird, but..."

Kurt stared helplessly between the two boys, both of whom were looking at him with conviction, trying to make him believe them. "I... I still don't think that's very conclusive evidence! I'm sorry, but I don't think that proves anything."

"Why are you fighting this so hard?" Blaine said, frustrated.

"Because I'm not going to get my hopes up over some stupid theory! I don't want to start believing this and think she's going to be like me and care about me and then find out we just made it up in our heads! I'm not going to do that to myself. I'm _not_."

"What if we can prove it?" Blaine asked, taking Kurt's hands again.

"How, exactly, are you going to do that?"

"I'll do it," Finn said, sitting straighter and nodding to himself. "I can pretend to be about to take her hand, see what she does."

"I'm sorry, that proves nothing. She just might not like touching people."

Finn huffed and looked at his hands. Blaine tilted his head, shifting closer to Kurt. "Why don't you just meet her? Finn can find out where she goes after school or something. You can go talk to her, just to see. And that way, you might find out you guys get along, faerie or not." He stroked a thumb across the back of Kurt's hand and spoke softly: "Don't you want to at least try?"

* * *

><p>Rachel pretended to trip on a paving stone. She reached out a flailing arm and grabbed the wrist of the man walking past her, who immediately steadied her, hand on her shoulder.<p>

"Whoa, you okay?"

"Yes, sorry. Thank you," she said, grinning up at him and giving his wrist a light squeeze. She paused momentarily, drawn in by his beautiful eyes and the fact that she was totally in love with him, then released him. "That was really nice of you." Her eyes slid away from his.

"Don't worry about it." He smiled, patted her on the arm, and carried on walking.

She stood still for a few moments, staring at the ground; his eyes were still in her mind, along with the ghost of the warmth of his skin on her hand. She blinked rapidly and forcibly straightened up, moving on with a purposeful stride. She reached the coffee shop closest to McKinley and shoved her hands deep into her pockets as she entered. The warm air hit her cheeks, making them feel overheated for a moment, and the smell of coffee snapped her out of her broken-hearted haze a little bit.

She ordered mindlessly, stepping carefully out of people's way as they passed her on her way to pick up her coffee, then settled herself at one of the tables. She caught sight of Finn Hudson through one of the windows and frowned a little: she'd watched that boy at McKinley and he really didn't seem like the coffee type. He was more of a soda-and-junk-food kind of guy. He didn't seem to be coming in, though, so she dropped her eyes to the table. She pulled some sheet music out of her bag, deciding to memorise another song she'd never be able to perform.

After a few minutes, someone came to stand next to her, clearing their throat and holding out a hand for her to shake. She jumped and pulled herself away from the bare skin, eyes looking up in consternation at the person who was standing at a distance too small for her to feel truly safe.

"Kurt Hummel," he said, a smile on his face that she couldn't quite place. She stared up at him, stomach dropping. She knew this boy. The one who had found her again. She was overwhelmed by the sense of relief that came with seeing him again; the sense of completion.

His hand was still held out towards her. Rachel steeled herself, battling against years of habit, and held out hers in return. She shook his hand and tried to appreciate the brief physical contact. "Rachel Berry."

Kurt was watching her expressions with deep interest. He looked like he was trying to figure her out and Rachel wasn't sure she liked it. "We've met before."

She paused. This was going against all of her rules. She could tell this was going to hurt her – it always had. Fall in love, but don't stick around. The cardinal rule. "Briefly," she muttered, looking away from him. Panic was building up in her chest. She couldn't do this: she couldn't let this boy in, not even slightly. "I have to go."

She stood up, gathering her music frantically and shoving it into her bag as she walked out, coffee abandoned on the table. Kurt followed her, though, running a little to catch up with her. "Why do you keep running away from me?"

"Leave me alone."

"Rachel, please, just wait for a minute."

Why did he have to keep pushing her like this? She stopped suddenly and span towards him. "What do you want from me?" she yelled, throwing her arms up in a highly dramatic way. She couldn't help it.

Kurt stared at her, biting his lip hard. He didn't know what he was doing, why he was allowing himself to be convinced like this. He looked down, wrung his hands, then set his shoulders back and lifted his eyes to hers. "I love you."

She stared at him, completely confused but still feeling the leap in her chest, the surge of hope. "Well, I don't love you." She turned to stalk away, but Kurt grabbed her by the shoulders and bodily spun her towards him.

He laughed at her, but she could see the pity in his eyes. People shouldn't feel pity for her. She was Rachel Berry, unfazed by anyone or anything, ruler over her own emotions. People did not condole with her.

Kurt watched the way her eyes flicked in consternation to where he was holding her, as if this never happened to her - which it didn't. He knew this was crazy. He wasn't sure why he was letting himself be taken in by this idea, this fantasy, but it seemed to slot into place. "I don't think that's true," he said. "It's one of the things we have in common."

She lifted her chin, though the effect was diminished by his height. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't pretend it didn't happen, Rachel." Kurt didn't know at what point he became convinced, but he was sure now.

"What are you—?"

"Don't you remember? You grabbed my hand in New York. Sang a little bit of _Wicked_." His voice was becoming bitter. "You connected us. Do you remember that? Or did you erase it from your memory?"

She stopped struggling against his hands on her shoulders and stared at him, large eyes widened. "You… you can't be…"

There it was. Confirmation.

"That's never happened to you, has it? You never thought you'd touch someone like you. Did you not consider that? Didn't think that you might be breaking someone else's heart?"

This could not be happening to her. Never, in all the time she had been doing this, had she seen one of them again. Never had they been like her. This boy was the first of her kind she had ever met and they were already connected.

She should have guessed. The connection was different. His was something other to her, something warmer without the want she sometimes had; something that felt familiar, friendly. She should have understood what that meant.

"I _really_," she wrenched herself from his grip, "do not know what you mean. Are you drunk?" She was a brilliant actress. She could do this. This boy would not make her heartbreak get the better of her.

Rachel avoided people on principle. She knew so few, but felt love for so many. She kept everyone at a distance for fear of connecting with them past the brush of skin and emotion. Therefore, she was not very perceptive when it came to the nuances of others' emotions; she was not aware when she was pushing too far. She wasn't prepared for the sudden heat that blazed in Kurt's eyes, the way his jaw clenched, the way he snapped.

"You _bitch_," he yelled. "You heartless bitch. Who do you think you are? You can't just break a person like that and pretend you didn't know what you were doing! I cried every night over you and you can't even give me the courtesy of acknowledging what you are, what you _did_."

Part of that hit home for Rachel. She could imagine how her evening would have gone if this boy had not accosted her: she would have returned to her empty apartment, put off sleep for as long as she could and, when she at last crawled into bed, cried herself to sleep. She would have imagined that it was just tragic, but occasionally the hurt overwhelmed her. Sometimes she remembered what she had done to herself and every wound was ripped open at once. Those times, sleep wasn't an option. She would curl in on herself, sobbing, unable to bear the thought that she would never see any of those people again. She would cry over her own anatomy, curse her own body for being born this way. Nobody deserved it.

The morning that followed would be the worst. Those nights left her raw. She would be in a haze of pain for the rest of the day, touching anyone and everyone just to make it go away, if only for a few seconds.

Suddenly, Rachel felt horribly, cruelly thirsty.

Kurt saw the tears in the girl's eyes and the way her shoulders had slumped. She seemed to be shrinking in on herself, pulling away from him. Kurt couldn't remember what he was going to shout next because this beautiful girl, who he was so deeply attached to, was crying and all he could think to do was comfort her. He pulled her towards him, somehow managing to wrap his arm around her without any resistance. He rested his chin atop her head, rubbing her back as she let out a sob. She clutched at him, letting him be everything their connection allowed; letting him be her best friend just for a moment.

Suddenly, she pushed him away, making him stumble backwards. "No!" She wrapped her arms around herself. "No," she repeated, her voice quieter. "I can't do this." She had to leave. She couldn't be near someone she loved and let emotions run wild. She turned and ran from him and this time, Kurt did not pursue her.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I would love it if you would review this chapter. It contains, in my opinion, a lot of progression, and I would really like to hear your thoughts on it._


	22. Landslide

_Author's Note: It's been so long! I'm sorry. Real life took over for a while, but hopefully I'll be able to get back into the writing swing from now on. I missed it! Thank you for sticking with me - you're all wonderful._

* * *

><p><em> Chapter 20 - Landslide<em>

"I'm not giving up."

"Of course not."

"I'm going to _make_her talk to me. She thinks she doesn't want it, but I know what it's like. I know what it feels like when you meet someone you're connected to. She will want to see me. She will. Won't she?"

"She will. She's—"

"And I'm not going to let her keep running away from me. She's going to have to face up to the consequences of touching random people."

"I wouldn't expect any le—"

"I don't care who she is: she does _not_get to do that to a person and…"

Blaine pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows, watching Kurt pace his room from his spot on the bed. He continued to rant about Rachel, as he had been doing since he returned from the coffee shop. Blaine loved how Kurt was going after what he wanted this time, but there was another part of his brain that was focusing on how cute a pent-up Kurt could be. He reached out and took Kurt's hand, interrupting his spiel. He kissed it and blinked up at him, grinning.

"I've been talking too much, haven't I?"

Blaine smiled and shook his head. "No, not at all. It's great." He grazed his bottom teeth over the pad of Kurt's thumb and sucked it into his mouth, watching Kurt's eyes widen.

"You do… agree with what I'm saying, right? I should…" He closed his eyes and Blaine rolled his tongue around his thumb. "I should confront her."

Blaine let Kurt's thumb slip from his mouth and nodded. "Yes, of course. I'm sorry; I'm not doing this right, am I?" He frowned. "I should be talking to you about this."

Kurt shook his head rapidly. "No. No, this is fine." He stroked his thumb across Blaine's bottom lip and started to smile. "It's not exactly something to complain about." He leaned down and kissed him, the slick skin of his thumb sliding across Blaine's cheek. The sound of the front door slamming came from the floor below and Burt's voice called out. Kurt pulled back and sighed, resting his forehead against Blaine's for a moment. Then he stood up and walked to the door, opening it and calling a greeting to his father.

Blaine ran his fingers through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut, then forced himself to stand up. He took Kurt's hand and let himself be led downstairs to talk to Burt.

* * *

><p>"So you're telling me this girl is like you?"<p>

Kurt nodded. "Blaine figured it out. It explains a lot of things."

"But not why she touched us in New York," Blaine murmured. Kurt shot him a look.

They were sitting across the table from Kurt's father, watching him warily as he lifted his baseball cap and ran a hand over his head, frowning. Blaine wasn't sure how they'd got here. Kurt had just started the conversation without any warning and Blaine had been carefully gauging Burt's reaction ever since, only interjecting now and again.

"Why are you telling me this now, Kurt?"

Kurt rearranged the ends of his long cardigan over his thighs. He raised his eyebrows as he did so and Blaine could tell he didn't really know how to answer, or didn't want to. "I just thought it was time, considering what happened this afternoon."

"But you could have told me before, kiddo, when you came back from New York. Or any time since then. I guessed something had happened, but I wasn't going to ask you. Why wait so long?"

Kurt reached out under the table and wrapped his fingers tight around Blaine's hand. The contact was a bit of a shock, but Blaine quickly gripped back. "Before now," Kurt said, "I thought it was hopeless. I didn't think I'd ever see her again and I was trying to come to terms with letting my heart get over her. I didn't want to burden you with something like that, Dad. Nothing was going to happen, so I thought I'd just... move on."

Blaine put both his hands around Kurt's, watching him too closely to register Burt's frown.

"It's never a burden to me. Don't ever think that."

Kurt shrugged and looked up at Blaine.

"He's right," Blaine said. "You did that to me, too, and it only made me worry more. You know that."

Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand and gave him a small smile, then turned to his dad. "I'm sorry, I should have told you before. I want you to know now. Rachel's really important to me. I know that's just because of the connection, but I can't let her go."

Burt reached over and put a hand on his son's shoulder. "I know. I wouldn't expect any less from you. Tell me if anything happens with her, okay?"

"Okay, Dad."

Burt nodded and stood up, nodding to Blaine and patting Kurt's shoulder once before he left the room. Kurt tilted his head onto Blaine's shoulder, breathing in his boyfriends comforting scent as Blaine rubbed circles across his hand with both thumbs. He pressed a kiss to Kurt's forehead.

"You should go. Your parents will get suspicious."

Blaine rested his head on Kurt's with a sigh. "I wish this didn't have to happen. I'd love to just tell them about you and bring you 'round for dinner and tell them I'm going on a date rather than lie to them."

Kurt pulled his head out from under Blaine's and turned his face away. "I'm sorry. I guess that's what you get for dating a faerie."

"No, Kurt, not like that. It's not because you're a faerie. I mean, that causes issues, but it's more that you're male. You're not a girl. That's... that's the problem. For my parents, at least." He looked at his lap where his hands were still holding Kurt's, feeling the blush spread high on his cheeks.

"They really feel that way?"

Blaine shrugged. "You're right: I should go." He stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Kurt stood with a resigned expression and pulled Blaine to him, winding his arm around his back. "Okay." He kissed him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be there with Rachel today," Blaine said when they broke apart.

"It's okay, you can't get away from school that quickly." Kurt shrugged and aimed for as normal a smile as possible. He was still thinking about Blaine's parents.

"Still, I wanted to be with you."

Kurt shook his head, smiling indulgently at his boyfriend. He leaned in and pressed their lips together again. He felt Blaine grin against his mouth, then Blaine tilted his head and parted his lips, the tip of his tongue dragging around the edges of Kurt's mouth. Kurt pushed him away with a breathless laugh.

"Stop it, or I'll never let you leave."

"That was the aim," Blaine quipped with a grin.

Kurt just rolled his eyes and stepped away, pushing him towards the door of the kitchen. Blaine didn't let him and stepped back into his personal space.

"Don't let this stress you, okay? You can't lose sleep over this."

"Blaine—"

"Ssh." Blaine stepped closer and kissed him, taking advantage of Kurt's closed eyes when he pulled away to press his lips to each eyelid. "I can't stand seeing that happen to you again."

"If I could just get my brain to shut down, it would be fine," Kurt said, sitting heavily in the chair again, holding Blaine's hands. He closed his eyes, letting his head drop forwards. "I can't seem to stop thinking."

"Hey." Blaine sat in the chair next to him, kissing the top of his head. Kurt looked up, seeing Blaine's eyes staring at him, so close. He leaned forwards a little and kissed him. "You need to relax," Blaine said when he pulled back, head still leaning against Kurt's. "Rachel is stressful, I know, but you can't let her take over your life like this."

"It's not just—"

"I know." Blaine tugged Kurt's knuckles to his lips. "Believe me, I _know_. I'm in exactly the same place as you. It's the bill, it's Quinn, it's my parents – for me, at least. All of it. And then Rachel, too. I'm not connected to her, not the way you are, but she is to me. I don't even know how to start dealing with that. You were already my best friend. With her, she feels for me to a depth it will take me ages to match." He looked away, not seeing Kurt's wide eyes on him. "What if she's in love with me? I… I'd have to break her heart."

Kurt gripped Blaine's face in his hands, bright eyes blinking rapidly. He shook his head and kissed him. "I love you. I just can't believe I have you sometimes. God, Blaine." His voice cracked on the name. "You feel _everything_. You have so much empathy and I don't know…" He breathed in and out, steadying himself. "I don't understand how you're as perfect as you are."

"Kurt—"

He was cut off by Kurt's lips. Blaine felt his hand tugging on the front of his shirt, dragging him forwards. Kurt leaned back in the chair, still pulling Blaine towards him so he was tugged out of his seat to straddle Kurt's lap. They'd been here before, sort of, Blaine thought, and all the doubts he had about that situation rose to the surface again. He pulled back just as Kurt moaned against his mouth, hips shifting under his.

"This isn't the right place." Blaine's voice was slightly hoarse and his head was spinning a little. "I – your dad—"

Kurt let his head drop back and he sighed. "You're right." He gasped when Blaine started kissing his neck, unable to stop himself. Kurt ran a hand up his back. "You need to leave."

Blaine nipped his jaw once and climbed off him. Kurt looked up at him, eyes wide and dark, and stroked his hands up and down the outside of his thighs. His lips were red from kissing and Blaine just wanted to capture them again and carry on, but he straightened up, grabbing Kurt's hands and stepping out from between his knees. "Tomorrow?"

Kurt smiled and kissed Blaine's hand. "Tomorrow."

* * *

><p>Their plans for tomorrow never happened. Kurt had the sudden realisation that he didn't have to wait around for things to happen with Rachel, he could make them happen. He went with his dad to the garage that day – something he hadn't done in years – and worked in the office. Everything was exactly the same, except the men being a little older, the walls a little darker and the office a lot messier. Kurt settled into the familiar sounds of car engines and the men's radio station and the smell of motor oil. He kept the blinds shut and the door locked like he always used to when he was a child. He wasn't supposed to exist, after all.<p>

His dad brought him a sandwich at lunchtime and they sat together while they ate, Kurt repressing the urge to tell his dad to take his feet off the desk.

"How's it feel, kiddo?"

"Strange," Kurt said with a smile. He glanced around. The same posters were still on the walls. "It's like it's stuck in time."

"You should come here more often. It can't be fun being home alone all the time."

Kurt just shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich.

He'd had a reason for the slip into his childhood routine. He borrowed Burt's car and drove to McKinley in time for the end of school. He had texted Finn and Mercedes, who had been filled in on everything that had happened with Rachel, and asked them to watch out for the faerie. He didn't park, but waited outside the school for the last bell to ring. He saw countless students swarm through the doors, but he knew she wouldn't be in the crowds. Sure enough, when the stragglers were the only ones sloping out, she appeared, coat as eye-watering as ever. Kurt quickly parked in one of the now-empty parking spaces and jumped out of the car. Rachel spotted him almost immediately and stopped. Kurt saw her huff and thought she might have rolled her eyes. He jogged towards her, thankful she wasn't running this time.

"While it's flattering that you want to stalk me," Rachel said when he reached her, "and it is preparing me for my later life of fame when my fans will be unable to resist following me home, I have to ask you to stop. It's not practical for me right now."

Kurt felt a smile working across his lips unexpectedly. He couldn't tell whether Rachel was being serious or not, but the sight of the diminutive girl staring indignantly up at him was highly amusing. He shook his head at her. "You're insane. But I'm not stalking you and you know it. Come on, Rachel, you don't have to pretend with me." He reached out and took her hand in his. She looked down, a frown between her eyebrows.

"I've never done this before." Her voice had dropped significantly in volume and Kurt leaned a little closer to hear her. "People don't get close to me, Kurt. It doesn't happen." She pulled her hand back, flicking her hair and letting out a huff. "It's strange how familiar you feel to me when I don't even know your last name."

"Hummel."

"Like the mechanic?" she asked, eyes fixing on his suddenly. Her gaze was oddly intense, but Kurt had a feeling she was always like that.

"It's my dad's shop."

"But I thought… The mechanic's son died when he was a baby."

Kurt shrugged and gave a wry smile. "Cover stories: a necessary part of faerie life. What's yours?"

Rachel crossed her arms and looked away from him. "I don't have one."

"That can't be true – everyone does."

"And how many faeries do you know?"

Kurt raised his eyebrows at her abruptly vicious tone. "None except you, but it's inevitable that you've had to lie about your life at some point. There's no other way to survive, especially considering you go to school." He looked up at the building behind her, wondering how she managed to go there every day and not fall in love with people. He tried to imagine what his life would have been like if he walked through these doors five days a week. Would he have been in Glee Club? He doubted he'd have been one of the popular kids, considering his sexuality and fashion sense. Would he have been labelled as 'that gay kid', 'that fairy'? Would he have found a boyfriend? Would… would he have found Blaine?

"I'm the loner girl," Rachel said, snapping Kurt's attention away from the dizzying possibilities to her small form, arms curled around herself protectively, eyes watching him with trepidation. "Nobody talks to me and I don't talk to anybody. I avoid everyone. It stops accidents from happening." Her eyes flicked between him and the school. "You're wondering, aren't you? What it would be like."

"It's strange to think about. I shouldn't, though; it doesn't change anything." He shrugged and turned away from the building, offering his arm to Rachel the way he did to Mercedes sometimes. She looked at it and Kurt thought momentarily that she was going to hyperventilate. Then she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and gave him a shy smile. Kurt grinned back at her and wondered if she was feeling the same thing he was: that amazing, puzzle-piece-slotting-into-place sensation of reciprocated connections. "Will you come home with me?" Kurt asked. It had slipped out and he bit his lip. He didn't want to scare her off.

Rachel pressed her fingers into his arm. She didn't say anything for a few moments, but allowed Kurt to keep leading her towards his dad's car while her eyes darted everywhere but at him. "I know it's the connection making me trust you, but…" She looked up at him. "Yes."

Kurt grinned, trying not to show the sting of the trust comment, and opened the passenger door for her.

* * *

><p>"My dad and Carole won't be home from work for a couple of hours and Finn's still in Glee Club." He placed a mug on the coffee table in front of Rachel and took a seat next to her on the couch, another mug between his hands. He glanced at the clock. "But Blaine will be here soon. Is that okay?"<p>

Rachel took a sip of her drink and frowned at him. "Who's Blaine?"

"My boyfriend."

"The one I connected to in New York?" She lowered her mug and looked at him with a panicked expression.

"Yes, but don't worry, please." He laid a hand on her arm, trying to soothe her, but the unexpected contact from someone who wasn't her dads made her jump and almost spill coffee on herself. Kurt steadied the mug, then took it from her and returned it to the table. "I know it's a lot, but—"

"You could have told me before, Kurt!"

"I'm sorry—"

"This isn't just _easy_ for me. I don't see people I connect to. It doesn't _happen_. I don't have friends or boyfriends and you can't just spring two connections on me at once and expect me to be calm about it!"

Kurt shook his head, feeling guilt flush his cheeks and brighten his eyes.

"Do you know how many people I've touched, Kurt? Hundreds. There are probably people all over the _world_who have a piece of my heart and apart from my dads I don't know any of them."

"Dads?" Kurt asked dazedly, picking out the least confusing part of that speech.

"I have two gay dads. They mixed their sperm together and used a turkey baster to make me with my surrogate mother, so I don't know which one is my real dad to this day."

Kurt tilted his head and frowned at her. "That's…"

"Pretty amazing, I know." Talking about her dads seemed to be calming her down, but she still wasn't looking at him.

"And… these people you've connected to," Kurt said, treading more carefully now, "why are there so many of them?"

Rachel shifted beside him. She smoothed out her skirt and pushed her hair behind her ears. "I have a bad habit of touching people I don't know."

"Doesn't that break your heart?"

Her jaw tightened, but the doorbell rang, saving her from replying. Kurt stared at her for a second longer, trying to figure her out. He went to let Blaine in, thoughts still tied up in the girl in his living room.

He pulled the door open and Blaine immediately fell on him, kissing him frantically. "I've been dying to see you _all day_," Blaine gasped, pressing feverish kisses to Kurt's jaw, his lips, his neck, and Kurt felt his stomach drop. He hadn't told Blaine.

Kurt pushed Blaine away, hands on his chest, his expression worried. "Blaine."

Blaine grinned, trying to kiss him again. When Kurt didn't let him, he looked closely at him and frowned. "What's wrong?"

Kurt glanced back to the living room and Blaine's eyes followed his, unable to see anything around the door. "There's someone in the living room."

"Who?"

"I should have told you before, I'm sorry."

Blaine put his hands on Kurt's wrists, stroking lightly. "Kurt, you're scaring me."

Kurt heard the door creak behind him. He didn't move, watching Blaine's eyes widen and his mouth fall open. "Blaine," Kurt said, voice high and wavering, "you remember Rachel Berry."


	23. Percussion Gun

_Author's Note: Hi again! I had a bit of an over-excited Latin nerd moment in the middle of this chapter, so that's why faeries now have their own species name. If you're at all interested, I've created a post about it on tumblr: **http: / / cirisamorpheus . tumblr . com /post/16534798397/homo-fariens-a-nergasm** (just remove the spaces). Well, other than that, just remember to be nice to Rachel in this chapter. She's a damaged girl and I love her, okay? I love you ALL and thank you to everyone's who's reading and commenting and the suchlike. And thank you to sillygleekt for being a speedy, speedy beta._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 21 - Percussion Gun<em>

Kurt pushed his bedroom door open with his back, balancing a tray with cups of coffee and cookies. He set it down on the bedside table and looked down at Blaine and Rachel, who were laughing and gesturing with their hands above their heads, fingers occasionally batting each other. It felt curiously domestic, like they'd been doing this forever. He tapped Rachel's hip and she slid sideways so Kurt could lie down with them, staring up at his ceiling like they were. He passed them their cups and both leaned their heads up to sip, Kurt just turning his head on the pillow and looking at them.

Blaine was perfect for this; Kurt had realised that quickly. When Blaine's look of shock at seeing Rachel had slipped almost immediately into one of welcome and familiarity, Kurt wondered why he'd ever felt trepidation. Rachel had been skittish when faced with someone who was her brother emotionally, but Blaine had been so simple about it. He befriended Rachel with the ease he did any other person and had her laughing within minutes. He skirted around the big topics because this was easy and fun, and why couldn't those wait? Rachel was a teenage girl barely holding herself together, but with one conversation and a shared look with Kurt, Blaine had decided he was going to be there to help. He gave his love freely and expected nothing in return, although that was rarely what he received. It made Kurt think being a faerie would have suited him.

"—and they've finally paid for good lights in the auditorium, although I think that might have been Mr Schuester, so I can practise with the correct level of ambience."

"Do you sing there often?"

"As often as I can. When the glee club isn't using it."

"But why don't you just join glee club?"

"Dancing," Kurt broke in, lifting his hands to link his pinkie finger with Rachel's in the air. "As much as it pains me to think it, Rachel would probably be the star of that club, and that requires all sorts of dancing and an almost incestuous track record of relationships within the members." He felt Rachel turn her head to look at him. "Finn's my step-brother," he explained.

"Finn Hudson?"

"Quarterback, glee club co-captain, freakishly tall. Know any other Finn Hudsons?"

Rachel dropped her hand and Kurt had to follow. She was silent. Blaine rolled onto his side, jostling all of them.

"You don't have to feel pressured to connect to him, too. I'm sure Kurt and I are quite enough for now." There was the warmth of a suppressed chuckle in his voice. Kurt stretched an arm over Rachel to hit his arm.

"I wouldn't," Kurt said to Rachel. "Having been down the connecting too early route with Finn, I do not advise it."

"There's a funny story about that, actually."

"Blaine, don't you dare."

"You know Kurt used to have a crush on Finn?"

It worked. Kurt huffed, but Rachel gasped and demanded to know all the details and suddenly everything was normal again. Blaine had known exactly what to say, just as he always did. He wasn't connected to Rachel, but it didn't matter because he already loved her, because he was Blaine, and that was what he did. He gave his heart out to people, in his bright eyes which said all the things he never needed to; his constant touch of a hand to a friend's shoulder or the small of their back; his willingness to start a conversation or stop to show a stranger their way. He was like some missing evolutionary step between _Homo sapiens_ and _Homo fariens_.

Kurt put his hand on Rachel's stomach, fingers splayed and pointing up, waiting. Blaine's slipped between his and their hands curled over each other. Rachel brought both of hers to rest atop theirs, anchoring them all together.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she murmured. "Friends aren't something I have."

"You're doing great." Blaine nudged his nose against her hair. "Just be yourself."

"Is that really how it works?"

"Yes," Kurt said. "We may hate each other sometimes and try to outdo each other and get jealous and all number of stupid things, but in the end - in the end, it's your job to just be you and our job to love you."

"You make it sound so simple."

"And why can't it be?"

"Because life isn't like that. There's so much going wrong all the time."

"But that's exactly it," Blaine said. "Life throws you a curve ball and we'll be there to help you catch it."

"But, Blaine you're not... You're... Why do you even care?"

Blaine hummed and curled closer to her, hooking his foot over Kurt's ankle and the bottom of the bed. "I'm not a faerie, but I still have feelings."

"He's overly compassionate," Kurt murmured to Rachel, knowing Blaine could still hear him. "He's going to end up getting kidnapped by some guy who tells him he likes his shoes one day, I swear."

* * *

><p>They stayed like that for weeks, keeping conversation light and making Rachel laugh. Kurt picked her up after school a couple of days a week, spending time doing silly things like brushing her hair while they waited for Blaine. It was easy, mostly.<p>

Rachel panicked sometimes. Finn would come home while she was there and she'd go rigid. Kurt would stroke her hair and assure her he wasn't coming anywhere near them. One time Burt left the garage early and was knocking on Kurt's door to say hi before they had time to stop him. It didn't seem to be the idea of connecting with them that had Rachel gripping Kurt's bedspread with bloodless fingers; it was like they reminded her of what she was doing there. She didn't understand the attachment forming between the three of them and it scared her.

Rachel wasn't the only problem. Kurt had been used to having very few people in his life, but now that Rachel was there he was becoming neglectful. He received more than one hurt phone call from Mercedes and he suspected she was starting to get jealous. Finn was confused by the sudden change in dynamic and didn't seem to know what to do any more – whether to talk to or even just acknowledge Rachel at school, whether to attempt interaction when she was in their house, whether he was allowed to bring warm milk to Kurt – because suddenly there wasn't enough time and that had stopped and Finn really missed having a brother to talk to.

And then there was Blaine. He was so good about the Rachel thing. He knew what to say when Kurt didn't and he was trying so hard, seeing her as much as he could and talking to her on the phone and picking her up from school when Kurt didn't. Kurt was pretty sure Blaine had taken Rachel to his house, something he had never been able to do with Kurt because of his lack of experience with interacting with strangers and "they really wouldn't be comfortable with you being my boyfriend and I _hate_ that, but I'm not risking anything with you." Kurt knew what Blaine was doing; he could see how desperately he wanted to love Rachel as much as she did him and it was an admirable effort. It was actually painfully sweet, but the effect was Kurt not getting to be alone with his boyfriend for longer than a minute for almost three weeks.

He couldn't say anything, though. Blaine had a tendency to feel intensely guilty for things that weren't really his fault, and Kurt was not about to inflict that on him. Spending time with Rachel was… well, it was trying sometimes, but mostly he couldn't help the feeling that he was the luckiest faerie alive to have found her again.

* * *

><p>"And this is my room," Rachel said, throwing the door open with a flourish.<p>

"Oh," Kurt replied, standing in the doorway.

"What do you think?" She tugged on his hands and he stumbled inside, staring around.

"It's very… very, very pink."

"That's the theme, Kurt," she teased, rolling her eyes and pulling him down to lie across her bed with her.

He looked up at the (baby pink) ceiling. "I've never been in another person's house before."

Rachel rolled onto her side, watching him closely. "Never?"

Kurt just sighed.

"Well, you know I've never made any real friends before now, so I guess I understand."

"Why do you do it, Rachel?"

She reached out and tangled their fingers together. "Do what?"

Kurt tilted his head, catching her eye. "I know we don't talk about serious things. We just don't. But look, Blaine isn't here. I understand that you don't want to scare him off from loving you, but this is me. I couldn't stop loving you if I wanted to." He rolled towards her so their hands were between their chests. "And you have to believe that I'd want to love you, even if I didn't… if we weren't…"

"Okay. I know." She flopped onto her back, taking their hands with her to rest on her stomach. "I would want to love you, too. I need you now." She smiled, shaking her head gently. "Ask me again."

Kurt curled towards her, resting his head on her shoulder. "Why do you do it? Why do you touch people you don't know when it just breaks your heart?"

"Because it feels good. You remember what it was like when you touched Blaine, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's that, but over and over again. That euphoric, buzzing feeling. And then you get the ache. You've lost that person forever, you're suddenly grieving and the pain is all that matters. So you do it again. It's… amazing."

Kurt stayed still for a moment, stroking his fingernails across her palm. "I can't understand why you'd enjoy that."

"You wouldn't unless you've done it. Ever tried to explain connecting to someone? There aren't the right words."

"You could try singing about it," Kurt teased, squeezing her fingers.

"That's not a bad idea, actually."

He felt her muscles tense, about to stand up and start looking for exactly the right song, but he wrapped his arm across her stomach. "Rachel, stop, I was joking."

"But—"

"Shh, stay here. I was talking to you."

She huffed, but relaxed. "What else do you want to know, since you're being curious today?"

"I'm glad you're telling me anything."

"Of course I am." She kissed his forehead. "I trust you."

Kurt couldn't help grinning. He hugged her closer. "I trust you, too, as terrible an idea as that is. But," he said over her indignant protest, "I was asking you things. When did you start?"

"Start what?"

"You know what, don't try to be cute."

"Last year. I'd lived through a year of high school without touching anyone – and I've still kept that perfect record. I'm very talented at avoiding physical contact. There was a rumour that I had a highly contagious skin disease for a while and that was why I never went near anyone, but. I was tired of having to be around that many people without connections."

"You were lonely." Kurt felt her shift. "It's alright to be lonely, Rachel. It's not a weakness."

She pulled away from him and Kurt let her go. He sat up and watched her stand, wrapping her arms around herself and starting to pace slowly.

"Rachel, I'm sorry."

She shook her head frantically, not looking at him. "No, no, it's me. It's all me. I'm sorry, it was just…"

"I pushed too hard."

"No!" She gripped the back of her vanity chair, staring into her own reflected eyes.

"Rachel—"

"You can't understand it, Kurt!" She span towards him. "You live your sheltered little life, barely touching _anyone_ and you just can't get it! It's not something I can just give up and it's the best feeling I've had in my life for such a long time. Do you know how many people I've touched this week? Three. And it's Thursday. And you know what? I love every. Single. One of those three moments. To me that is what _living _is and you just can't get that!" She was breathing heavily, blinking furiously at the tears creeping up on her. She saw Kurt's fingers clenching around the bedspread and whimpered. "Kurt, I'm so sorry. That… I didn't mean that, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. You're right."

"Kurt…"

He shook his head, standing up and walking to the door without looking at her. "I'll see you tomorrow. Or whenever. Whenever you're not doing something with Blaine."

"Kurt—"

He pulled the door shut and rushed out of her house. He stood on the sidewalk, breathing hard, realising that Rachel had driven him here. He called Mercedes, barely managing to keep his voice steady, and then sat on the edge of the road, head in his hands.

Of course Rachel was right. He didn't know about life; he wasn't worldly no matter how many books he read or movies he watched or languages he learned. He hated giving in to irrational thoughts, but he couldn't stop himself from wondering if one day Blaine would see how clueless Kurt was and just leave him. He didn't doubt that Blaine loved him; he was more sure of that than almost anything. There was just never the guarantee that Blaine would _keep_ loving him, the way Kurt knew he himself would.

"Get in."

He looked up, seeing Mercedes push the passenger door open for him. He climbed inside, hugging her tightly and not letting go of her hand when they pulled apart.

"What did that girl do to you?"

"Nothing. She just made me see things in a new light, I guess."

"Kurt—"

"Look, can we just drive? Take me somewhere. Take me to your house or something."

She put the car into drive, still holding his hand. "Kurt… you've never been to my house before."

"There's a first time for everything."

"My parents are home—"

"And I'd love to meet them again. Please, 'Cedes, just do this for me."

She glanced over at him with a deep frown between her eyebrows. "I demand an explanation before you leave."

"Keep your eyes on the road. I don't want to die before I get to meet your little brother."

"You're really freaking me out right now."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm fine, Mercedes. Just let me a live a little. That's all I want."


	24. Permanent Daylight

_Author's Note: Hi! So, yes, I suck. Sorry about that. I have real life to deal with, sigh. Thank you if you're still with me! Have some chapter. (I miss you guys when I'm gone for a while, you know.)_

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 22 - Permanent Daylight<em>

Mercedes' house was warm.

That was the word that best summed it up for Kurt. It was like yellow kitchen cupboards, bed socks and a gospel choir hugged up into a sensation. There were bright smiles and random bursts of song that made Kurt laugh more freely than he had in a long time.

Mercedes wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning their sides together as they sat at the dinner table. Kurt could feel his shoulders relaxing and a weight he didn't know he had lifting from around his heart. He hadn't connected with anyone. Mercedes had been very adamant that he was going to get to know them first because she was _not_ letting Kurt go down that path. She'd offered to cut Rachel for him when he explained what had happened in that pink bedroom. (He had politely and a little forcefully declined.)

He wasn't angry at Rachel because he couldn't be. She had an addiction Kurt knew she would have to deal with, and hurting others in search of justification was going to be a part of that process. He was mostly angry at himself for remaining content at his sheltered lifestyle, for that tiny part of him that still thought Rachel was right.

He let Mercedes' house and family wrap around him with comfortable chairs and good home cooking and forgot about Rachel for a little while. Mercedes' little brother Abel was probably the cutest thing Kurt had ever seen, with big bright eyes and a smile that showed all his teeth. He kept stealing Kurt's carrots when he thought Kurt wasn't looking. Her parents had welcomed Kurt into their home, lamenting that he hadn't been there before, but ensuring him they understood his father's decision to keep extra-familial connections to a minimum.

Kurt loved them and he didn't need his body to tell him that. He knew he would touch them all at some point, but it didn't really matter when, because he was already welcomed and comfortable enough.

"You're all so… _wholesome_," Kurt whispered into Mercedes' ear.

She laughed and kissed his cheek. "You happy?"

"I'm perfect."

"You going to be okay, Kurt?" Mercedes squeezed his cheeks in her hands, frowning up at him.

"I'll be fine. Thank you for this. Last night was… enlightening." He grinned and leaned down to give her a hug.

"Don't let her get to you," she said in his ear, rocking them from side to side.

Kurt just hummed in reply. His life suddenly felt so normal. He'd had a sleepover at a friend's house for the first time in his life, spent time with an extremely functional and welcoming family, spilled out his problems to his best friend, and there had still been time for a movie musical and face masks. He knew that wasn't the evening of a typical teenage boy, but it at least made him feel more human.

"You seeing Blaine today?"

"Of course."

She laughed and squeezed his arm. "You two make me sick sometimes."

"You're just jealous."

"Nuh-uh. You have no idea – there a thousands of McKinley Titans just _falling_ at these feet."

Kurt shook his head. "Okay, okay, tell me about them next time. Tell your brother good luck in his game."

"Not like he needs it. That boy's bat is magnetically attracted to baseballs, I swear. There's some kind of crazy magic going on there."

"Tell him anyway."

"He's going to love you even more. I can tell, as soon as you're gone it's gonna be 'when's Kurt coming over again?' every single day."

Kurt blushed. "That's very flattering." He shook his shoulders out. "Okay, okay, I need to leave or I'm going to end up with a Needy Boyfriend Problem."

* * *

><p><strong>From: Blaine 3<strong>

**Are you home yet?**

**To: Blaine 3**

**Only just**

**From: Blaine 3**

**I'm on my way.**

**To: Blaine 3**

**Clingy**

**From: Blaine 3**

**Love you too.**

* * *

><p>"I hate not seeing you," Blaine said as soon as the door was open. He wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist, kissed his cheek, and pushed the door shut behind him. "Roll call?"<p>

"Finn: Puck's. Dad, Carole: work."

"I love your family."

"My dad's going to catch on soon, you know. He's been going easy because we'd just started going out and then Rachel happened, but just you wait."

"All the more reason to capitalise." Blaine grinned, and then kissed Kurt again, on his lips this time. He crowded him towards the staircase until Kurt tripped up the first few steps backwards. Kurt pulled away, laughing, and led Blaine up by the hand. When the door of his room snapped behind them, he expected Blaine to jump him again, but he seemed to have come to his senses a bit. "Rachel."

Kurt's shoulders tensed up, all the Jones' hard work clenched away. "Not now."

"Yes, now. She told me what happened."

"So you know the whole story. We can stop talking about it now."

"Promise me she didn't make you think about it."

Kurt ran his fingers through the hair above his right ear, crossing his other arm over himself. "I don't know what you mean."

Blaine put a hand to his elbow. "Tell me you haven't considered doing what she does. Touching strangers. Using love as a drug, tell me you haven't, Kurt, please."

He couldn't quite look Blaine in the eye. "I haven't _considered_ it. I've thought about it. That's different."

"Kurt—"

"I've thought about the idea of it. I haven't had a moment where I actually want to do it. I'm not going to do that to myself, I promise." He saw Blaine nod out of the corner of his eye. "Are we done now?"

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, resting his head on his shoulder. "I'm just worried about you. I know Rachel's the first faerie you've met and she's not exactly a normal one. I trust you do the right thing for yourself, but it doesn't stop me from thinking about what might happen." He kissed Kurt's jaw. "I'm sorry if I ruined the mood."

"No, you're fine." Kurt pressed his fingertips into Blaine's side, leaning into him. "I love that you care. I'd do the same for you. Actually, I'd be so much worse. You're lucky it's this way round."

Blaine hummed his reply. His arms shifted around Kurt. "Can we have more kissing now?"

"Again with the clingy."

"It's not clingy! I just like—" He was cut off by Kurt's mouth over his own. His muffled words turned into a whimper as Kurt's fingers threaded into his hair and tugged. He tipped Blaine's head back, tongue tracing over his lips, but pulled away all too soon.

"Bed," he said when Blaine tried to protest.

Blaine immediately clenched his fingers around the fabric of Kurt's cardigan and dragged him to the bed. Kurt grinned at Blaine's enthusiasm. Blaine scrambled backwards up the bed, stretching out and waiting for Kurt to lie down beside him. Kurt looked down at him, laid out with his bare toes stretching out, wiggling just a little. His shirt was caught in the covers, pulling up to bare a stretch of skin. He smiled up at Kurt, eyes and heart wide open to him, and he reached out like a child, fingers grappling at the air. Kurt threaded their fingers together and climbed onto the bed. He lay down next to him and immediately tucked his head under his chin, letting their hands be trapped between their chests.

"I thought we were kissing."

"We were. Now we're cuddling."

Blaine huffed a laughed against Kurt's hair. "Okay. I like cuddling, but can we save it until afterwards?"

"So presumptuous, Blaine."

Blaine whined; hooked a leg over Kurt's hip. "It's been forever. I think I'm dying. I'm like a man in a desert here, Kurt. No water for _weeks_."

"Oh my _god_," Kurt laughed, pushing himself out from under Blaine's chin to lean over him, dropping a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Stop before you hurt yourself."

"Did it work?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Horrifically, yes." Blaine barely had time to grin before Kurt was hooking a hand behind his knee, rolling onto his back and drawing Blaine on top of him. "Better?"

"So much." Blaine started pressing kisses down his neck. They settled into silence and kisses, lips sliding over each other, tongues licking at each other, hips rocking together until Kurt pulled away, gasping.

"Blaine."

"Mmm." Blaine was sucking at a spot on Kurt's neck, making Kurt writhe.

"I want… I – ah."

Blaine stilled above him and Kurt's hands immediately slid to cup Blaine's ass through his jeans, pulling his hips forwards to get the friction back again.

"Kurt…"

"Your hand, I want your hand." Blaine tried to stop again, but Kurt just hooked an arm around his neck, one hand still pressing them together. He drew Blaine's ear close to his mouth to whisper against it. "It's not too fast for me. I want it, if you want to."

Blaine knew his reasons for thinking this was a bad idea, even through the haze Kurt had put in his head. They made him want to refuse, but Kurt sounded so sure. He was laying himself out for it and Blaine's hand had started to stroke down Kurt's torso without him realising. His fingers snuck under the waistband of Kurt's jeans, his briefs, sliding over his hipbone. Kurt bucked up into the touch.

"Is that a yes?" he breathed out, only just not choking around the words when Blaine's fingers started to rub back and forth over his hipbone.

Blaine just smiled, propped himself up on one elbow, and drew his hand back to unbutton Kurt's jeans. Kurt grinned up at him, feeling giddy, then closed his eyes on a moan when Blaine cupped him through his briefs. Blaine tried to understand the feeling of having Kurt in his hand. It was almost too much, the way his cock was straining up against his underwear, the way Blaine could _feel_ it.

He knelt up, settling back on his heels. Kurt blinked his eyes open to find Blaine staring at him, eyes raking up his body; his sprawled limbs, the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his flushed cheeks, and there, there where Blaine could see how hard he was. He let out a choked sound and scrabbled at Kurt's jeans, tugging them off. Kurt laughed a little at the frantic movements, but stopped quickly once Blaine was back, pushing Kurt's shirt up his chest and hooking his fingers under the waistband of his briefs.

He paused then, looking up to catch Kurt's gaze, to check just one last time. Kurt nodded, dizzy smile widening. Blaine gave a decisive nod of his head and Kurt nearly laughed again.

Blaine tugged at the fabric, pulling it down to Kurt's mid-thigh. Blaine stopped there, trying not to gape. He felt all the air getting trapped up in his chest as he forgot to breathe because "You're so beautiful."

Kurt shifted, drawing his feet a little further up the bed, setting his legs wider apart. "Blaine." His voice was lower than Blaine was used to, growly at the edges. His stomach drew up tight at the sound.

He scrambled to hover over Kurt again, kissing him hard on the mouth, licking at his lips until Kurt opened his own, tilting his head up. He pulled back. Smirked. He shuffled down the bed again, staring at Kurt's cock, which was lying flat against his stomach. He took it in his hand, looking up in time to see Kurt's eyelids flutter closed over the whites as his eyes rolled back. Blaine steadied himself with one arm wrapped around Kurt's thigh, and began to stroke his hand back and forth. He was transfixed by the movement, how he could feel the weight of Kurt in his palm, the heat of him. He bit into the skin of Kurt's knee, trying not to moan out loud.

Kurt was panting, little 'ah' sounds stumbling out occasionally. Blaine tightened his grip and Kurt grabbed his wrist. Before Blaine could start apologising, Kurt brought Blaine's palm to his mouth and licked it. He locked eyes with him, tongue striping back and forth. He sucked Blaine's fingers into his mouth and closed his eyes, moaning around them. Blaine pulled his hand back, choking on his own breath. Kurt licked his teeth, smiling wickedly.

Blaine gripped him again and Kurt's smile dropped as he gasped. The slide was easier now, and Blaine was using it. He sped up, hand slipping easily. He paused, brushed a thumb over the head of Kurt's cock. Kurt moaned, the sound guttural, like it was being torn out of him, and Blaine couldn't believe he was doing this with just his hand.

Kurt's fingers wrapped tight around Blaine's forearm. "Blaine… Blaine, s-so…" He gasped, back arching. "Now."

"Yeah," Blaine said, though he didn't know what it was in reply to. He kissed Kurt's knee and started moving faster, hand flying over Kurt's dick until the muscles in his forearm were seizing up and Kurt was yelling, hands clutching at the headboard. He arched, his hips snapped up, pushing his cock through Blaine's fist once more. He broke, some inhuman sound ripping through him, and he was spurting across Blaine's fist, his own stomach, Blaine's wrist. Blaine kept stroking him, pulling everything out of him until Kurt was pushing his hips into the bed, leaning away from the too much of it.

Kurt's muscles relaxed, everything falling loose. His hands dropped from the headboard, arms just falling onto the pillows around his head. Blaine's eyes slid over him from head to toe, taking him all in. Kurt looked utterly _wrecked_. The blush high on his cheekbones had spread all the way down his chest. His legs were spread wide, tilting onto the bed. His skin was splattered with come, stretching up his torso. His eyes were closed, mouth open in an expression of utter, boneless bliss.

Blaine had to look away before it became impossible. He climbed off the bed, went to Kurt's en suite, returning with a wet flannel. He paused in the doorway, breath punched out of him. Kurt hadn't moved, and from where he stood Blaine could see all of him; his entire, debauched, pliant body. Kurt tilted his head on the pillow; opened his eyes as though something heavy was pressing on his eyelids. A smile tilted the edges of his lips and his fingers flexed, as though he were trying to lift a hand.

Blaine went to him. He sat on the edge of the bed and stroked the cloth over Kurt's stomach, the insides of his thighs. Kurt watched as Blaine cleaned him up, and felt life slowly melt back into his muscles. He still felt weightless, but a little less like liquid, a little more formed.

Blaine was back from the bathroom again and lying down beside him. Kurt wasn't aware of having closed his eyes until he opened them again. Blaine was grinning at him, stroking his collarbone.

"Hi."

Kurt hummed in the back of his throat. Words weren't quite back yet.

Blaine kissed his forehead. "You can sleep. I won't go anywhere."

Kurt whined in protest. He could see Blaine shifting uncomfortably, still hard in his jeans. He tried moving a hand, wanting to show he could return the favour, but Blaine stopped him, pressing his fingers in between Kurt's and holding them back. "It's okay. You sleep. If your family's still out when you wake up, then…"

Kurt tried to nod, but he couldn't remember which part of him his head was. He blinked instead. He kept blinking, eyes dropping closed. He felt the brush of Blaine's lips over his before he drifted into sleep.

* * *

><p>When Kurt woke, it was still light outside. He felt Blaine pressed against him, head on Kurt's chest, leg slung over his waist, arm across his stomach. Kurt stretched out, pointing his toes and enjoying the pull on his muscles. He glanced at the clock. They still had time.<p>

He kissed Blaine's head. When he didn't stir, Kurt stroked his neck, thumb rubbing behind his ear. Blaine snuffled against Kurt's chest, whining in the back of his throat. Kurt smiled, heart feeling larger all of a sudden, because his boyfriend was just too adorable. He tapped the back of Blaine's head. Blaine started to shift against Kurt, sliding closer. Kurt felt a small flip in his stomach when he realised Blaine was still hard, pressing against his hip.

"Blaine." He kissed his head again.

Finally, Blaine tilted his face up, blinking groggily. "Kurrrrt." His mouth was still a little swollen with sleep and the word only made it out in a long string.

Kurt stroked a hand up Blaine's back. "Come on. Nobody's home yet."

Blaine pressed his face into Kurt's chest, but tried pushing himself up a bit. "What?"

"Nobody's home, Blaine. We're still alone. And you're still hard, so."

Blaine snorted. He succeeded in lifting his head, and then rolled away, flopping onto his back and turning his head on the pillow to look at Kurt. "I'm sorry. I'm not the one who gets sleepy after orgasms."

"Hey, that's not true!"

"It's happened both times, Kurt."

"The first one was in extenuating circumstances."

"And the second one?"

"You try coming that hard and staying awake. I don't know what you did, Blaine, but _god_. I think I forgot I existed for a minute there."

Blaine blushed and turned to look at the ceiling. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed it?" Kurt leaned up on one elbow, face hovering over Blaine's. "I've never felt anything like that in my life. I only hope I can give you something half as good in return."

Blaine's eyes continued to watch the paintwork. "Do you want to?"

"Hmm?"

"Give… Return the favour, or whatever."

Kurt leaned over him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "Of course I do. In fact, I was planning on doing that right now." He slid a hand over Blaine's stomach. "I want to do so many things to you, Blaine. I want to make you feel good." He could hear Blaine's breathing pick up. He slipped his hand lower, pressing over Blaine where he was still hard, squeezing lightly. "I keep thinking… Blaine, I want you in my mouth." He squeezed again, pressing his hand hard against Blaine.

"Wh-what?"

"I want to blow you, please, let me do it."

"I…" He moaned in the back of his throat when Kurt's hand slipped under his jeans, gripping him through the fabric of his underwear. He tried to un-stick his throat.

"Yeah?" Kurt's hands were at his jeans again, undoing them swiftly and pushing them down.

"Wait, say that again," Blaine said, opening his eyes.

"What?"

"What did you say?"

"I want to blow you." Kurt grinned, then disappeared, pulling Blaine's jeans down his legs. He tugged his own shirt over his head, dropping it on the floor. He pushed at the bottom of Blaine's until he lifted his arms. When Blaine was lying back in just his boxers, Kurt took a moment to look him over. He pressed a hand over Blaine's cock again, which he could see outlined through his underwear.

"Wait."

Kurt looked up. Blaine was frowning, his shoulders drawing up infinitesimally. Kurt drew his hand back. He lay down beside him again, keeping a few inches between their bodies. "Okay. Sorry, was that too fast?"

"Um, yeah, a little."

Kurt waited, not saying anything, while Blaine's eyes flicked back and forth from one edge of the ceiling to the other.

"Look, it's great that you're ready for that," Blaine said, voice low. "I know you won't pressure me into it. I just need you to know I'm not there yet. The… the blowjobs. I can do hands. I really, _really_ want to do hands, and this isn't coming out right, but I want that. This. I want this but not… that."

Kurt pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Okay, I get it. Hands but not mouths."

"Yeah."

Kurt kissed his cheek again. "I don't mind. I can't do things unless you're comfortable with them." Blaine nodded. "But… you do want this, for now. So do you want me to…? I really want to show you what it's like."

Blaine turned to him. Their eyes met and he just stared at Kurt for a moment, trying to dig something out of his gaze. "I would like that."

"Okay." Kurt kissed him. "I love you." He pressed their lips together, fingers dancing down Blaine's stomach again. The muscles quivered under the touch. He slid his fingers quickly inside Blaine's underwear and wrapped a hand around him. Blaine let out a broken-off moan into Kurt's mouth.

Kurt stroked him, feeling Blaine harden against his hand. All of his skin was tingling at the sensation. He broke his lips from Blaine's to watch as he pushed the boxers down, freeing Blaine's cock. He bit his lip at the sight. Blaine was thick in his hand, the head slick. Kurt had to slip his thumb over it, just to feel the slide of it. Blaine's hips bucked and Kurt gasped. He watched Blaine slide through his hand. He was about to get hard just from watching this, watching himself do this to Blaine.

His gaze trailed up Blaine's chest, his tensed muscles, quivering, up to his face. His eyes were closed, eyelashes fanning out across his cheek. Kurt wanted to lie back one day, with Blaine bathed in sunlight, and count each one. But it wasn't the time, because Blaine's mouth had fallen open. He could see his tongue wetting the roof of his mouth, see the vibrations of his lips when he moaned.

Kurt wanted to crawl out of his skin. He felt as if he could. Step out and see them; watch the whole scene unfold; watch himself take Blaine apart.

Blaine drew his knees up. His toes curled into the sheets. Kurt had been so captivated by his expression and the sight of his hand on Blaine's cock that he had missed the steady mantra of 'Kurt' that had been on Blaine's lips for the last minute.

Kurt pressed kisses, open-mouthed and wet, to Blaine's jaw. "You okay?"

Blaine keened, pushing up on his heels and pressing into Kurt's hand. "Close."

Kurt bit into the skin just under Blaine's jaw. He sucked it between his mouth, tongue licking over it. He moved faster, trying to bring Blaine right to the edge, tip him over it. He moaned against his skin, still sucking on the same spot.

Blaine started to tremble beneath him. Kurt pulled back, looking back down to where his hand was stroking Blaine. "Come on," he whispered.

Blaine swore loudly and came. He pulled Kurt's head towards him, kissing him sloppily as he continued to spill across his palm.

Kurt kept kissing him, the desperate press of mouths falling into small, soft pecks. He took his hand away from Blaine, stroking his hip and kissing him, kissing him, kissing him. Blaine was barely kissing back. Kurt stopped and lay his head on Blaine's shoulder. "Love you."

"Lo…" Blaine yawned. "Love you."

"Now who's sleepy after orgasms?"

"Hey…" Blaine was going to give a witty reply, but Hypnos was whispering in his ear. Kurt's hand stroking his hip was lulling him and he gave into it. The tiny fragment of him still conscious heard his phone buzz, but it didn't register. He was tunnelling: there was only Kurt's breath against his neck, Kurt's hand on his hip, and then there was nothing.


	25. The Trickster

_Author's Note: Golly, this is quick, isn't it? Something about this chapter made it write itself. I don't know how quick things will be after this, so hopefully this monster chapter will suffice for a while. If you have any questions about this fic - things you're not sure about, things you'd like to know about faeries, anything - feel free to ask them over on my tumblr (cirisamorpheus). I'll put them in my 'a touch of the fingertips' tag. Love to you all._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 23 - The Trickster<em>

"Blaine… _Blaine_, wake up, your phone's going insane."

Blaine rolled his head, eyes closed, brain still slurred. "Mmm."

"No, come on."

A hand squeezed his shoulder, shook him a bit. Blaine gasped, ice water wake-up hitting him, and opened his eyes.

"Ugh, thank you." Kurt shoved a phone in his face, the bright screen making Blaine squint. "I don't know who Cooper is but he will _not_ leave you alone."

"Coop? I… what?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and pushed himself away, dropping the phone onto Blaine's chest. Blaine let his head loll on the pillow, watching Kurt stand up. He was wearing only his briefs and Blaine stroked his eyes up the back of Kurt's thighs, across his back, down to his ass when he bent down. Kurt looked back over his shoulder and laughed when he saw Blaine staring at him. The phone buzzed again, vibrating against Blaine's sternum.

"You going to answer that?"

"In a minute. I'm busy."

Kurt smiled, wiggled his ass a bit, and straightened up. He climbed back onto the bed on his knees. He pushed clothes at Blaine. "You have to get dressed."

"Why?" Blaine whined, stroking his palm up the front of Kurt's thigh. "I like this."

"Because everyone's coming home soon and I need you dressed and presentable and sitting on my couch like you've just spent an afternoon doing totally wholesome boyfriend things, like TV and maybe foot rubs. Up."

Blaine groaned. He tossed his phone onto the bed and leaned up on his elbows, tilting his head back. "One day we will have our own place to live. We'll have sex all day and never put clothes on and no one will be there to say we can't."

Kurt's fingers stroked through Blaine's hair and he hummed in contentment. "I can't wait," Kurt murmured. Blaine opened his eyes, catching Kurt's blush. He grinned, about to say something more, but his phone started up again. "Seriously, who is that?"

"Cooper."

"I got that part. Who is he? Some other boyfriend I don't know about?" He tugged on Blaine's curls.

"God, no. He's my brother."

Kurt stilled. "You have a brother?"

"Yeah? Didn't I mention him?"

"No. You never talk about your family with me, except that one time, but you've never brought it up again."

"Cooper would be offended. I'm sorry, I should have mentioned him."

Kurt slid off the bed and started pulling his clothes on. "Yes, you should have."

"Are you angry with me?"

"Yes, actually."

Blaine pulled his shirt over his head. "Why? I forgot to tell you about my big brother, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was that big of a deal."

Kurt threw his shirt onto the bed. "Of course it's a big deal! You're my boyfriend and my best friend and you know _everything_ about me. You're so much part of my family that I'm surprised my dad isn't trying to adopt you. I get that your parents aren't like mine. That they're not acting the way they should be, but you could at least tell me about them. You could tell me why your mom looks at you with dead eyes, or why they're out so much, or why you get that look on your face when you think about your dad. You could tell me that you have a _brother_, because to me, that seems like a pretty big deal."

"I don't get why you're so annoyed about this." Blaine stood up, tugging his jeans on. "They're my family. It's my business."

"And you're _my_ family," Kurt hissed, pulling his cardigan on viciously.

The phone buzzed again and Blaine grabbed it, turning his back to Kurt. "Hello? Hi, Coop, how's it going? No, I'm fine… What, right now?… Yeah, I'll be there. How's Mom doing?… Ah. Yeah, yeah, I'll set off now… I'll tell you when I get home." He clicked off, set the phone down and pulled his jacket on. "Looks like my brother's in town."

"He isn't normally?"

"He's in college in Pennsylvania."

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest. "Okay. Are you leaving?"

Blaine tilted his head, taking in Kurt's shoulders which were hunched up towards his ears, and the way he was staring at the floor. He sighed and crawled across the bed, kneeling up in front of him. "I hate fighting with you."

Kurt tilted his chin up, taking a sharp breath through his nose. When Blaine didn't move, and just watched him, eyebrows tilted low in distress, he relented. "Me too."

Blaine put a hand on the back of his head and drew him into a kiss. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Cooper. He's not like my parents. He's… he's my big brother, you know?" He grinned. Kurt peered up at him, smiling just a little. "I want to tell him about you."

Kurt twisted his head to kiss Blaine's wrist. "Okay. Everything?"

"If I can."

"He'll be all right with it? With what I am?"

"I've never really talked to him about… about faeries or anything like that. Not what he feels about them. I don't know. I trust him to listen to me, though."

Kurt nodded, slipping an arm around Blaine's waist and kissing him again. "You should go."

"I should."

"I don't want you to."

"Kurt Hummel, you can't ravish me whenever you please."

"I thought that was my job."

Blaine kissed him again with just a hint of his teeth against his bottom lip before pulling away. "I wish I could stay, but I have an Anderson family gathering to attend."

"Sounds thrilling."

"With Cooper there, anything could happen."

"Mmm, I think I like him already."

* * *

><p>"Blaine! How's my baby brother?" Cooper bundled him up in a hug the moment he walked into the living room. Blaine laughed, hugging back, and just breathing in his brother for a minute. With Cooper home, everything felt a little bit lighter. His parents didn't feel like such a pressure on him, the house didn't feel as quiet or as dark, and Blaine knew he could look forward to something when he got home.<p>

"He's good. Offended at still being your 'baby' brother."

Cooper laughed, putting a hand on Blaine's back when he pulled out of the hug. "One more spurt and you might grow out of it."

Blaine turned to his parents. His mother was sitting stiffly in an armchair, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. His father was sipping from a tumbler filled with amber liquid.

"Where have you been?" his father asked.

"With friends."

"The Warblers?"

"No, just… just friends of mine."

"Where do they live, these… 'friends'?"

"You haven't shown me your room yet, Blaine. Mom said you redecorated."

Blaine turned to his brother, feeling as if he could hug him and never let go. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll take you up now."

Cooper sat on Blaine's bed, looking around at the freshly painted walls, taking in the new desk by the window. "Who is he?"

Blaine leaned his back against the door. "Who?"

"The guy you were with." Cooper locked his gaze on Blaine's, eyes sparkling.

"H-he…" Blaine leaned his head back against the door and let out a laugh. "Okay. Very good."

"What's his name?"

"Kurt."

"And he's…"

"My boyfriend." He trailed over to the bed, flopping onto his back next to where his brother with was sitting. "And he's amazing."

"Aww, _Blaine_."

"Oh, shut up."

"I'm guessing they have no idea." He gestured to the door.

"Can you imagine their faces?"

Cooper lay down beside him, staring up at the ceiling with him. "What did your friends say? The Warblers – they're cool, right?"

Blaine shifted, pulling his feet up to rest on the edge of the bed. "I haven't said anything to them." He could feel Cooper's head turn towards him.

"Still pretty new?"

"Um, no. No, we've been going out since February." He didn't have to look to see the frown that was being directed at him. "If I tell you something, can you promise not to repeat it to anyone?"

"Blaine…"

"Please just say yes."

"I promise."

Blaine closed his eyes. He rubbed the heels of his hands into them; let his arms fall to the bed again. "Kurt's the most wonderful person I've ever met. He's my best friend and I'm so in love with him it shocks me sometimes. He has so many things to deal with every day, and it amazes me how strong he is. I want to be like that, you know?" He tilted his head to find Cooper still watching him. He took a deep breath. "He's a faerie."

Nothing was said for a minute. Cooper rolled onto his back. His hands flexed on his chest a couple of times. "Woah."

Blaine started to laugh. Cooper glanced at him, and laughter started bubbling up inside him. He leaned his head back, chuckling.

"Is that really all you could think of?"

He snorted. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I don't really have a prepared response for something like that." He laughed again, and Blaine joined in. They laughed themselves out, side by side on Blaine's bed. "Wait, so, if your boyfriend's a faerie, doesn't that kind of cause problems? How can he kiss you if you're just going to want to rip his clothes off?"

Blaine closed his eyes. He'd forgotten. He'd been completely stupid, because he was so used to the knowledge now; he hadn't realised that people didn't know, that people may never know.

Cooper took his expression the wrong way. "You guys _have_ shagged, haven't you?" There was the hint of a laugh in his voice. "Jesus, Blaine."

"No, Cooper, just… I have so much to tell you."

* * *

><p><strong>To: Kurt<br>****He wants to meet you.**

**From: Kurt  
><strong>**Did you explain everything?**

**To: Kurt  
><strong>**Yeah. Wish you could have seen his face :) Don't think he's ever looked that shocked before. Not even when I came out. Actually, he wasn't really shocked at all that time…**

**From: Kurt  
><strong>**It's the bowties. Does he really want to?**

**To: Kurt  
><strong>**Hi, Kurt. Cooper here. I'd be honoured to meet you. Anyone who makes Blaine blush is someone I need to be acquainted with. Don't worry, I won't force an unwanted connection on you ;)**

**To: Kurt  
><strong>**Sorry**

**From: Kurt  
><strong>**Bring him to Friday Night Dinner next week.**

* * *

><p>Carole let Blaine in as she was leaving on Tuesday afternoon. "He's not back yet," she said, rifling through her bag. "I think he went to talk to Rachel. Didn't seem too excited about it." She looked up at him. "Is that a good thing?"<p>

"Yes, actually." Blaine smiled at her, sliding past her into the house. "Who's in?"

"Burt's in the living room. Finn's at football practice. You can go wait upstairs if you want." She leaned in to kiss him on the cheek and then pulled the door to behind her, calling out a final farewell. Blaine stared at the spot she had disappeared from, wondering how he had managed to find a family like this one.

He shook it off and started to head upstairs. He reached the landing before realising he should probably say something to Burt and turning to walk back down. The doorbell rang. He paused, hearing Burt get up and open the door. The Hummels didn't get many visitors, so whoever was at the door intrigued Blaine. He heard a few gruff words and established that the visitor was a man. When they moved into the living room, he crept down the stairs. He sat on one of the steps near the bottom and listened in.

"I'd really like to know who you are."

"Mr Hummel, you have a son, correct?"

Blaine heard the creak of Burt's armchair and felt something unpleasant settle deep in his stomach.

"Finn's my step-son. Good kid."

"Now, Burt, you know that's not what I'm getting at." The man's voice was oily. Blaine could imagine the suit and slick hair growing back out of that voice. He clenched his fists on his knees.

"Well, you'll have to make things a little clearer for me, then."

"Your son is what I am here to discuss, Burt."

"Mr Hummel is fine."

"Yes, of course. I wanted to enquire about your son – your _faerie_ son."

The knot in Blaine's stomach twisted painfully. He wanted to be in there with Burt, sitting beside him, offering some kind of support while everything started to fall apart around him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"There's no use in playing games with me, Mr Hummel." The man's voice had an edge to it now. "I know. I was told by a man at my firm, an upstanding citizen—"

"Who?"

"Russel Fabray. His daughter is your step-son's girlfriend, I believe." When Burt said nothing, the man carried on. "Mr Hummel, I would like to buy your son."

Blaine's teeth dug hard into his fist. He gripped the banister with his other hand, trying not to scream, or storm into the room and punch the man in the face. He heard Burt's chair squeak again.

"Get out of my house."

"Mr Hummel, please sit down."

"You're not going to come in here and mess with my family. Get out."

"Times are changing, Burt. The bill to repeal faerie rights is well on the way to becoming law. Wouldn't you rather sell your son now, willingly, to someone who will use him the right way, than have him forcibly removed from you once the law passes?"

"You're not going to _use_ him for anything!"

"Burt, please—"

The door of the living room flew open. Blaine flinched backwards, but neither man noticed him. Burt was gripping the man by his shirt collar, dragging him towards the front door. He threw it open and pushed the man onto the doorstep. "Do not come to my house again. Do not come near my family, do not contact any of us. You make me _sick_." He slammed the door in the man's face; turned to lean against it, breathing heavily.

He spotted Blaine, huddled near the bottom of the stairs, teeth making marks on his fist as tears started to fall from his eyes. Burt's eyes flicked up the stairs in panic.

"Is he…?"

Blaine shook his head. Burt sighed and came to sit beside him. He put an arm around Blaine's shoulders and pulled him close, resting his head on Blaine's. "It's okay, kid. We're okay."

Blaine turned his face into Burt's shoulder. "Finn told Quinn."

"I figured as much."

"Do you think… he was right?"

"About the bill?" Burt squeezed his shoulder. "Like hell he was. That thing won't pass."

"But what if it does?" Blaine murmured.

"Then… then we're going to have fight. You know Kurt. He's not going to sit back and let it happen."

Blaine let out a watery laugh and sat up a little, wiping at his eyes.

"Come on," Burt said, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to Blaine. "Let's have a cup of something warm before Kurt gets back."

Blaine nodded, taking Burt's hand and letting him pull him to his feet. He followed him to the kitchen and sat at the table as he started opening cupboards. "Should we say anything to him?"

Burt sighed, leaning back against the counter. "I don't think so. I'm sure you've noticed that Kurt has a bit of a martyr complex." Blaine nodded, smiling wryly. "I don't know what good it'd do."

"I understand. I won't breathe a word."

Burt nodded at him and went back to making their drinks. He set a steaming mug in front of Blaine a few minutes later and eased himself into a chair on the opposite side of the table. "Now that I've got you alone, I have something I want to talk to you about."

"Mmm?" Blaine said through a sip of hot liquid.

Burt's eyes were sparkling. "Let's talk about how much time you spend in my son's room when I'm not here."

* * *

><p><strong>From: Blaine<br>****Will you come home with me today?**

**To: Blaine  
><strong>**Home with you as in to your house? Your house where you live with your parents?**

**From: Blaine  
><strong>**That house.**

**From: Blaine  
><strong>**There won't be anyone there**

**To: Blaine  
><strong>**Oh ok I see where this is going.**

**From: Blaine  
><strong>**Please.**

**To: Blaine  
><strong>**Yes yes ok. Shall I follow you there in my car?**

**From: Blaine  
><strong>**Yeah, I'll be over normal time.**

* * *

><p><strong>To: Rachel<br>****What's Blaine's house like? Is it nice? What's appropriate? What should I wear?**

**From: Rachel  
><strong>**Why are you considering wearing clothes? It's not like you'll need them.**

* * *

><p>Blaine's house was beautiful, as it turned out. Kurt gazed up at the high ceiling of the entrance hall, an awed smile on his lips. Blaine laughed, took his hand, and led him on a tour. Kurt stumbled into every room behind him, praising his family's good taste. After a number of rooms, though, he started to notice it: the emptiness. It was picture-perfect postcard living; showroom. It wasn't home. All of the photographs lining the staircase were posed, framed family portraits, or individual shots. There was one of a boy Kurt assumed was Cooper in a football jersey. One of Blaine on a polo pony, another of him fencing. Kurt paused at those ones, smiling. Blaine blushed and dragged him onwards.<p>

Blaine's room was the first that felt alive. It was still classic, still tasteful, but it was Blaine all over. Kurt sat on the end of the bed, looking around. Blaine stepped in front of him, running a hand through his hair. "What do you think?"

"It's so you. I love it." Kurt put his hands on Blaine's hips, grinning up at him. "Now tell me, Mr Anderson, polo player, fencer extraordinaire: what was your reason for inviting me into your bedchamber?"

Blaine laughed, pulling Kurt in by the back of his head, smooshing his face into his stomach. "Stop it."

"You haven't answered the question," Kurt said, voice muffled by the fabric of Blaine's uniform shirt.

Blaine's face fell, unbeknownst to Kurt. He carded his fingers through his hair, mind stuck on the day before. Flashes of an oily voice and a cheap suit flooded his mind; Burt's broken expression; the sinking, clawing feeling of fear that was itching at his skin. "I just love you."

"Good enough." Kurt leaned his head back and Blaine just had time to school his expression into something sweeter. Kurt's fingers started to unbutton his shirt.

Blaine laughed, doing the same to his own. "Making me feel a bit cheap here, Kurt."

"What are you talking about?" Kurt smirked, folding his shirt over the back of Blaine's desk chair and unbuttoning his shorts (Blaine had been trying to ignore that they were bondage shorts since Kurt arrived, but now that they were coming off, he looked to his heart's content).

"We're only in it for the sex." Blaine dropped his shirt, pushing his slacks off and kicking them away.

"Fair enough. It's great sex."

Blaine laughed, but the sound broke off when Kurt started mouthing across his hipbone. Kurt's fingers were pulling at the top of Blaine's briefs, working them down. Blaine let it happen, hands winding into Kurt's hair. He stepped out of the pool of fabric around his feet, looking down. Kurt pressed kisses to his stomach, licking into his belly button briefly, eyes fixed on Blaine's. He shifted, throwing his own underwear somewhere across the room with a graceful flick of his hand, causing Blaine to laugh, stomach trembling under Kurt's lips.

Kurt paused, hands stroking Blaine's sides. He gave him a smile that made Blaine's heart flip. Blaine brushed his hair back, trying not to let his thoughts show on his features. People wanted Kurt for this. They wanted to sell him and barter him and use him.

"What's wrong?"

Blaine shook his head, dropping to his knees. "Nothing. Come here."

"Blaine."

"Shh." He wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, leaning into his chest for a minute. "Let me… Just, let me for today."

"Let you what?"

Blaine pressed his lips to his sternum, breathing him in. He sat back on his heels, rubbing his hands up and down Kurt's thighs, then took him in his hand. Kurt moaned, legs spreading wider around Blaine's shoulders. Blaine shuffled forwards on his knees, hand pumping Kurt slowly. He looked up, locking eyes with him. Kurt was frowning a little, still trying to figure out what Blaine meant, but the first swipe of Blaine's tongue over his head brought everything into immediate clarity.

"Blaine, no, stop. You don't have to do this."

"I know." Blaine kissed the tip of his cock. "I _want_ to."

Kurt whimpered, hands gripping Blaine's shoulders. "Promise me you're doing this for the right reasons."

Blaine didn't answer. He slipped his mouth around Kurt's length, sucking on the head. He closed his eyes, breathing shuddered breaths through his nose at the taste of Kurt on his tongue. He slid his mouth down, feeling Kurt swell on his tongue, hardening in his mouth. He moaned at it and Kurt's fingers dug into his skin. He choked out Blaine's name and he looked up. Kurt's mouth was open, just staring down at him, chest heaving. Blaine wanted to smile at how bright Kurt's eyes were, the blue piercing, but, well.

He took Kurt in until he couldn't take any more, bringing his hand up to cover what his mouth couldn't. He stopped, swallowed. One of Kurt's hands grabbed at his hair, his whole body curving over Blaine in ecstasy.

He was hard, achingly so, but he ignored it; this wasn't about him. He needed to do it for Kurt. There weren't many things he could do, but this was one he could manage. It was one he wanted. He could unpick Kurt at the seams and make him feel good, make him forget. So he started to move, drawing his lips down Kurt, tongue sliding all around him, sucking.

He couldn't stop. He slid his mouth up and down, head bobbing. He gripped Kurt's thighs hard, little moans climbing up the back of his throat. Every vibration made Kurt louder. He was rocking a little, pushing himself further into Blaine's mouth, unable to stop, so Blaine pressed his hands over his hips to hold him steady and moved faster. Everything was whirling together in bright colours and Kurt on his tongue, the taste of him in the back of his throat.

All too soon, Kurt was tugging frantically on his hair, letting out strings of half-words, some of them Blaine's name. Blaine didn't stop, didn't pull back, but he lifted his eyes to Kurt, moaning again. Kurt cried out, back curving over Blaine, fingers gripping him tightly. Blaine felt him spill down his throat, held him still and tried to swallow it. There was too much, liquid spilling out the edges of his mouth, running down his chin, slipping down his neck. Kurt let out a startled 'ah' sound and drew back. Blaine let him go, hands on Kurt's legs, holding himself up.

Kurt petted Blaine's hair with quaking fingers. Blaine took one hand and kissed his palm, tongue licking out across his own chin. The sight seemed too much for Kurt, he flopped onto his back. Blaine forced himself to stand. He put his hands under Kurt's arms and shifted him up to lie fully on the bed, legs not dangling off the end. He lay down beside him and threw a blanket over them. Kurt made a sound of protest, but his eyes were drifting shut already.

"Bl… Blaine… you…"

Blaine shushed him with a kiss to his temple. "Don't worry about me. I wanted to do this for _you_."

Kurt tried to say something again. Blaine smiled at the pitiful sound that came out. Kurt was spent, his entire body giving in to sleep again. Blaine wondered if it would always be like this – whether Kurt would always be so boneless after that he couldn't keep his eyes open. He thought about what Kurt was and felt the weight settle over him again. He sighed, laid his head down beside Kurt's and watched him drift into sleep.

* * *

><p>The day leading up to the Friday Night Dinner was one of the most stressful in Kurt's memory. He was up before daybreak, too nervous to sleep. Blaine kept texting him throughout the day about normal, mundane, not-Cooper-related things until Kurt told him he was shaking he was so hyped up and he was <em>not<em>helping.

He turned his phone on silent and started cooking at midday. He was done with all of the prep quite quickly and stared at the counter for a minute, tapping his hand frantically against his thigh. He pulled open cupboards, got out the flour and started to bake.

He picked his phone up again at four o'clock, just as Blaine called him to say he was nearly there. He knew he sounded a bit hysterical, but the baking had done nothing to slow his rabbit heart. He actually jumped when the doorbell rang.

"Calm. Down." Blaine took hold of his shoulders when he started pacing around the kitchen. "My brother already thinks you're the coolest kid in all of Ohio just because I love you. He's not scary. I don't know what's gotten into you."

As Kurt pulled Blaine's arms tight around him he wished he could say that, yes, it was partially to do with Cooper, but it was also a lot to do with the way his dad and his boyfriend had been acting the past few days. He'd catch them staring at him, eyes hollowed out, or they'd drift off mid-conversation. One time, Blaine went for an unusually long trip to the bathroom and came back with suspiciously bright eyes. Kurt kept asking what was wrong, but they shrugged him off. It was unnerving.

He didn't even know what to think of Wednesday afternoon. It had been wonderful, earth-shattering, everything Kurt could have imagined and more, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something had been off with Blaine. There was a melancholy under the surface that worried him.

Blaine reached up and wiped a streak of flour off Kurt's cheek. Kurt caught his wrist and kissed his palm. "I know I'm being stupid."

"It's not stupid. I understand, believe me. I remember the first time I met your dad. He's pretty terrifying when he wants to be. Even now."

"Blaine, are you blushing?"

"No?"

"What's my dad done to you? Blaine," he said, laughing when Blaine tried to turn away. "Tell me."

Blaine hung his head. "It was mortifying." Kurt just waited, biting on his thumb as he watched Blaine blush harder and harder. "You remember when you said the house being empty was going to catch up with us?"

"Oh, he didn't."

"Yeah… yeah, he did."

Kurt pressed a hand over his mouth, but he couldn't stave off the laughter. Blaine looked up at him, affronted.

"Hey! Don't laugh – you didn't have to sit through it!"

Kurt just shook his head, laughing harder. Blaine pouted, but Kurt didn't stop, so he just grabbed him around the waist, burying his face in his neck.

"So that's why – your house."

Blaine made an affronted sound into his neck, cheeks still burning. "Stop it or I'll tell my brother what we did."

"Blaine, why would you even say that?"

"He'd never let it go. He'd hint at it all through dinner."

"Blaine, no, please."

Blaine chuckled, kissing Kurt's neck. "Stop panicking. Come on." He stepped back, keeping a grip on Kurt's hand. "Show me what you're making."

Blaine watched Kurt talk him through everything that was happening in the kitchen, opened his mouth for a baked good which Kurt gave him with a long-suffering look. He grinned, and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist, and tried to forget his fears for just a few hours. It was time for the first Anderson-Hummel dinner.


	26. This Side of the Blue

_Author's Note: Well, hello again. I've been writing this chapter in bits for a while, but I finally got it all together today. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Cooper Anderson was just as charming as his brother. He had Carole swooning and Burt grinning within five minutes. Kurt realised now that the charm ran in the family. Underneath it, though, he had a feeling Cooper could be just the right side of misadventurous. The way he shot Kurt a wink when he came in the house was just the first sign. It didn't help that he was ridiculously attractive (something Kurt refused to admit ran through his mind, even when Cooper grinned at him). Dinner passed quickly with everyone settling in together with ease. Kurt had expected Blaine to be a little stiff, a little nervous, but one look at the easy camaraderie between the brothers put that fear to rest. If anything, Blaine was brighter, bouncing off his brother and growing in front of Kurt's eyes. He loved this Blaine – one who was comfortable and sure of himself. From the small pats on the shoulder, the exchanged grins and banter, and the way he slotted into their family with ease and acceptance, it was pretty obvious to Kurt who was the cause of that.<p>

Cooper also had the capacity to be outrageous and have everyone love him for it. He got away with saying things Kurt wouldn't dare voice and everyone would just laugh. Kurt got a bizarre flash of a drunk Cooper, throwing his arms wide and pronouncing things to the world that should not be thrown around. The thought made him smirk into his plate and Blaine slid a hand over his knee under the table and tilted his head, shooting him a questioning look. Kurt rolled his eyes, nodding in Cooper's direction, and the smile that graced Blaine's face was almost blinding. Kurt was thrown into shell shock, staring at Blaine and completely unable to look away.

Copper nudged Blaine, who blinked, seeming to draw himself out of a deep well, eyes dragging themselves from Kurt's. Cooper smirked at him, eyes flicking between the two of them. Blaine blushed, ducking his head and lifting his fork to his mouth. Kurt didn't look away, though. His eyes met Cooper's and they battled silently for a few seconds, protectiveness meeting fierce love and self-assertion until Cooper let out a breath through his nose, lips quirking up, and gave Kurt an infinitesimal nod. They surfaced into the conversation of the table again, the exchange apparently having gone unnoticed.

* * *

><p>"So, Kurt, any chance you and my little brother will be in New York together? I'm sure Blaine's told you all about his Big Apple dreams." Cooper nudged Blaine's leg with his own. "Never shuts up about them."<p>

Kurt's mind had a moment of shut-down. It seemed to stop processing, bracing itself, before he was thinking far too many things all at once. His jaw slackened a little bit, his lips parting, but there were no words even to stick in his throat. Cooper sat up a little straighter and directed his gaze at Blaine again.

"Almost as obsessed as he with the Buckeyes. Are you a Buckeyes fan, Burt?" he asked, words shooting out rapid-fire. Kurt barely heard them.

Burt glanced at Kurt, but he took the bait. "Yeah. Blaine and I've talked about it before, but we've never got together for game. Maybe next time?"

Blaine grinned at that, although it was a little frail around the edges as his gaze stayed carefully trained away from Kurt and his wide eyes. "I'd love that."

"Sounds awesome, dude," broke in Finn, who of course was still reclining in his chair, tension going unnoticed by him.

Carole insisted on coffee and everyone agreed as though they had been parched for it. Minutes were filled up as cups were passed out and people took their small first sips. Blaine was watching Kurt over the rim of his, but Kurt wouldn't look back. Cooper's foot was bouncing back and forth next to his, little flurries and jolts of discomfort, and Blaine pressed his own over it to hold it still. He saw Cooper looking at him, but he didn't return it. He could see Kurt's eyes fading in and out with the chit chat, occasionally surfacing before they sank back into a flurry of thoughts Blaine wished he could be privy to.

"Kurt," Carole said, and the two of them jumped on their separate couches. "Why don't you take Blaine up to see your new sewing machine? We'll be fine down here for a while."

Kurt blinked at her for a second, evidently having been jolted from his internal hurricane, but he nodded slowly. He stood, reaching a hand across the coffee table, which Blaine took, allowing Kurt to lead him upstairs.

They didn't say anything for a few minutes; they simply sank onto the end of Kurt's bed, sides not quite touching, with Blaine looking at his hands and running his thumbs over his palms, smoothing across the lines. He sighed, shaking his shoulders out a little, and grabbed Kurt's hand. "We've never talked about this."

Kurt shook his head, lacing his fingers with Blaine's. "I never even thought about it. I mean, I did in an abstract way. When you were talking about us having our own place someday, I thought – I just sort of assumed…"

"So did I. Only ever there."

"But…" He lifted his head, frowning at him. "But, Blaine, what am I going to do? I can't be the things I want. It's all too dangerous and." He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath through his nose. "If this bill passes, it won't be possible at all."

"It won't pass," Blaine said, and the force in his voice made Kurt open his eyes again. "It _won't_. It can't."

"Blaine… Blaine, I'm hoping just as much as you are, but I have to be realistic. I have to consider it."

"No." He shook his head, leaning his face into Kurt's shoulder. "Please. Just tell me what your dreams are. The bill doesn't matter."

Kurt pressed a hand to his hair. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Well, no, things are wrong. The bill's wrong and it… I'm so, so worried about it, Kurt. They could be writing it up right now and that terrifies me. And what Cooper said, about New York, that's… I want to be there with you. I want us to experience that city together and… I don't know, I want us to have a coffee shop we go to that's small and homely and serves the best beans this side of the Atlantic, you know? I want things like that with you."

Kurt smiled against him, fingers stroking into his curls. "Yeah, I know. It's just the getting there, right? I don't know. I know the things I want to do, but I can't do them."

"Why not?"

"Because if I want to do musical theatre, apart from my complete lack of credits and not being sure that I'm even any good, I have to dance with people. That means touching people. If I want to do fashion, I still have to live through college without connecting to random people in the hallways. It's New York, Blaine. It's people and people and people, and they just don't end. No number of gloves is going to help that."

Blaine slid down Kurt's body, laying his head in his lap and letting Kurt keep running his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Just tell me why you didn't."

"It wasn't conscious. I didn't keep it from you on purpose. I think… maybe I thought it was too soon? Not just for us, but for me. I mean, I'm only a sophomore. My dreams are just dreams, Kurt. They're not things I can make a reality yet."

Kurt's fingertips skittered across the skin of Blaine's temple, sliding down his cheek. "What are you dreaming?"

"Lots of things," Blaine mumbled, and his skin started to heat up under Kurt's fingers. He twisted his head swiftly and kissed the pads of his fingers.

Kurt smiled down at him, tapping the tip of his index finger against Blaine's bottom lip. "What sorts of things?"

Blaine groaned, kissing Kurt's fingers again. "You're so…"

"Charming?"

"Stubborn." He got a laugh for that and Kurt leaned over him to kiss him. The angle was odd, Kurt's lips slanting almost perpendicular over his, but he smiled into it. "I kind of have two paths. There's the more realistic one and the wishing-on-a-star one."

"Realistic?"

"Columbia. Or NYU. English major, or something like that. My dad might work me into Law, but I really don't want that."

"You're not doing Law, then." Kurt kissed him again. "I'm not letting you do something you don't enjoy. Now, tell me what you _really_ want."

Blaine huffed a breath, eyes sliding back towards the ceiling. Kurt sat up, leaning back on one hand, the other stroking Blaine's hair again. He dropped his head back and joined Blaine in watching the paint.

"Performing."

Kurt smiled, fingers curling Blaine's hair around them and tugging affectionately. "How did I guess?"

"Are you laughing at me?"

Kurt sat straight and pulled Blaine upright to face him in one swift movement, making Blaine's head spin a little bit. "Are you crazy? Of course not. They're your dreams, Blaine. Who am I to tell you what you can and cannot dream? That's kind of the opposite of what I'm here for. I'll support you wherever you decide to take your life." He tilted Blaine's shoulders from side to side, nudging their noses together. "Besides, would I laugh at my own dreams?"

Blaine smiled, shaking his head. He was looking at Kurt the same way he had at dinner, making Kurt's heart stopper up in his chest. "I love you. God," he said, a hand gripping the back of Kurt's neck and pulling their foreheads together, "how are you real?"

Kurt laughed, the breath not all quite in it from the look in Blaine's eyes. "I could ask you the same thing."

* * *

><p><strong>From: Unknown Number<br>****I'm trusting you with his heart here, Kurt. Don't let me down.**

**To: Unknown Number  
><strong>**Wouldn't even dream of it, Cooper.**

* * *

><p>Rachel was chattering incessantly, her babble filling up the kitchen, bouncing off the walls and thrumming across the wood of the table. Kurt had stopped listening a little while ago and was watching Blaine's fingers draw patterns across the back of his hand. Small machines were ticking over in the back of his mind, picking up key words of Rachel's monologue, but he wasn't taking it all in.<p>

He had come to love weekends. For so long, they had been nothing special. His dad would be home more, which he loved, but that was the only real change in the monotonous similarity of his week from day to day. He didn't do as much work, he cooked a bit more, but they had always snuck up on him. He often hadn't kept track of days because it made everything seem longer, so the weekend would be upon him, the only warning being his dad having a lie-in. Now, Kurt counted days. He knew how long he was counting down until he could have Blaine, Rachel, Finn, or Carole around, until he could have _more_. Because he knew what more felt like now, and he wanted it. He wanted to have this weekend contentment that came with lazy Saturdays and Sundays, which it had taken him so long to get a taste of. They were elusive days of liquid, languid time, the hum of voices and the press of Blaine's lips that his body stretched towards each week.

His machines clicked into action again when someone entered the kitchen. Kurt looked up, smiling at Finn with what he thought might be his weekend smile – slow, because they had the time for it, and content. Finn paused when he caught sight of Rachel at their kitchen table.

"Oh, um, hi." He gave an awkward wave. Rachel gave him her bordering-on-manic grin in return. "I'm just going to get something to eat. Um." He looked to Kurt, floundering.

"I left you some food on the stove," Kurt said, wanting to laugh at the relief that washed across Finn's face. He didn't give him much respite, only allowing Finn to pick up the pan from the stove before he spoke again. "Finn, have you met Rachel before?"

Finn dropped the pan onto the counter, hands flapping a little. "Uh, yeah. Well, I've seen her at school. I mean." He turned to face them, giving Rachel a smile. "I've seen you at school."

"I've seen you, too," Rachel said. The glint in her eye was leaning towards feral and it made Kurt's stomach uneasy.

"Is this what they call flirting?" Blaine whispered into his ear. Kurt shook his head, frowning slightly.

"Let me help you with that," Rachel said, standing up to go to Finn.

"Rachel, sit down."

She paused at Kurt's stern tone, frowning at him. He just stared at her, unblinking, until she returned to her seat, clutching the hem of her dress. They said nothing more until Finn was out of the room with another awkward wave and a grin in Rachel's direction.

"Don't ever pull something like that in my house again," Kurt said.

"I don't—"

"No, you knew exactly what you were doing. You are not going to make my brother just another person you love. I will not let you do that to him, or to yourself."

Rachel huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and avoiding their eyes.

"Get to know him first," Blaine said. "When was the last time you were friends with someone you weren't connected to?" Rachel shifted, doing up another button on her cardigan. "Exactly," Blaine continued, voice soft. "I think you should try it."

"What if I don't – what if I don't know _how_?"

"You can't learn if you don't try."

Rachel sighed heavily. Then she reached across the table and grabbed their hands, giving them a wry smile. "I really love you two, you know."

"We do," Kurt said, squeezing her hand. "Just, hands off my brother. Literally."

Rachel laughed, rolling her eyes. Blaine leaned his head on Kurt's shoulder. Kurt kissed his forehead. He let his mouth rest there a little longer, because he could feel the weekend again, and he had the time.

* * *

><p>"Do you think we're moving too fast?"<p>

Blaine looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on Kurt's floor, flicking through a song book. Kurt was watching him, sprawled out on his front on the bed, legs kicked up at the knee and crossed at the ankle.

"What?"

"Sexually. Are we moving too fast?"

"I… I don't know, do you think so?"

"I'm just thinking about what you said when I asked to give you a blowjob. You know, mouths not hands. But then you – you kind of went ahead and did mouths pretty soon after that, and I'm just worried I'm making you feel like you have to. That day, it was great. God, no, it was amazing. The best thing I've ever felt. But you were kind of… weird, I don't know. You didn't seem all there and it kind of freaked me out a little. I'm just… worried."

Blaine frowned, eyes sliding away from Kurt's to focus on a wrinkle in the bedspread. "I wouldn't do something I'm not ready for." His voice was wavering a little, and the uncertainty was worse than anything Kurt could have imagined.

"Would you do it again?"

"What, now?"

"Yeah, sure. If we were doing that right now, would you do it again?"

"I-I don't…"

Kurt sighed, pressing his hands into his eyes. "Blaine," he whispered. "Blaine, why would you do that? If it wasn't something you wanted—" he whimpered in the back of his throat—"why?"

"I'm sorry."

"No, Blaine." Kurt let out a frustrated sound and pulled himself up, sliding off the end of the bed to sit in front of Blaine, grabbing his hands. "Don't apologise to me. Just… please, just tell me why you did that. If you're not ready to do it now, how were you ready to do it then? I want us to be on the same page here, but if you don't tell me these things then how am I supposed to know?"

"I don't know why I did it, okay? I don't. I wanted to at the time."

"Do you regret it?"

"No! No, I couldn't. I… I wanted to do that for you."

"Blaine, I'm really not feeling any more certain about this."

"I just felt so useless! There are so many things in your life that can hurt you, Kurt, and I can't do anything about them. People, and the bill, and that _damn_ man—"

"Which man?"

"—and I can't _do_ anything about them. I'm just your boyfriend. I'm just one stupid human being who, no matter how hard he hopes, can't change any of the things he wants to. Any of the things you deserve. But that? That was something I could do. I could make you happy, I could make you feel good, and you deserve that."

"Blaine." Kurt shook his head. "Blaine, that's not what it's… Just. Which man? What are you talking about?"

"The man who came to your house and asked to buy you," Blaine shouted, fingers clenching too tight around Kurt's. "The man who wanted to put a price on your head and get your dad to hand you over in to sex slavery. _That_ man. That man who I can't do a thing to stop, and he's not the only one. There are so many people who want you for – for that and what if the bill does pass? What… what if…?" He hung his head, a sob breaking out of his throat. One of Kurt's hands stroked up his back.

"When was this?"

"The day before."

"Blaine… Why didn't you say anything?"

"We—" his breath hitched—"we agreed not to. Your dad and I. We said we wouldn't."

"So you've just been bottling this up?"

"I can't see what else I was supposed to do." He sobbed again and Kurt shushed him, wrapping an arm around him and drawing Blaine into him. He crawled into Kurt's lap, curling up against his chest with his face pressed into the crook of his neck. "He was so awful, Kurt. He made me feel sick."

"I know," he said, soothing hands rubbing Blaine's back and side. "I know." He closed his eyes and pressed his nose into Blaine's hair. He wasn't crying, even though he thought he should be. He had cried over smaller things. He focused on hugging Blaine close to him, comforting him and ignoring the numb feeling that had started to settle. When Blaine's sobs petered out to little hiccups, Kurt pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead and sighed.

One of Blaine's arms snaked around his back and his chin tilted up so he could breathe into Kurt's neck. "Are you angry with me? With me and your dad?"

"Why would I be?"

"Because we didn't tell you."

"No. I understand it, I think. My dad thinks I have a martyr complex." He felt Blaine's lips curving into a smile against his neck. "I'm only upset that I couldn't be there for you and that you – oh, god." He huffed out a breath. "I wish you never felt like you had to do what you did for me. I love you, no matter how long it takes us to be intimate like that."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising, you didn't do anything wrong. Just… wait. Until you're ready, next time."

Blaine curled his legs closer into himself, snuggling against him. "I will."

"I'm not saying it didn't feel good," Kurt said, the slight lilt of teasing to his voice.

"I'm glad." Blaine's fingers walked up Kurt's chest, hooking into the neck of his shirt and just resting there. "Are we going to talk about him?"

"I don't think he deserves talking about."

"He doesn't deserve anything, but I want to know you're not bottling this up like I did."

Kurt didn't answer for a little while. He was sifting his thoughts, trying to put them in order. "I don't think I'm feeling it yet."

The backs of Blaine's nails tapped against his sternum, just gently. He sniffled a little. "Okay. Just remember, when you do, I'm here."

"I know."


	27. Dig

_Author's Note: Ahoy there! This is another one of those important chapters. Actually, the next few chapters are all pretty important. There's hints and there's obvious things, and I'll leave you to guess at both. If you have any theories/questions, ask me here or on tumblr (cirisamorpheus . tumblr . com). Much love to those of you who are still with me._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 25 - Dig<em>

"You like singing, right?"

"More than almost anything. How did you know?"

"I've seen you in the auditorium a couple of times. I was trying to practise for Glee and you were in there. I didn't want to stop you."

"You've watched me perform?"

Finn rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I know it was kind of creepy."

"No," Rachel laughed. "No, it's flattering, thank you." She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and shifted a little closer to him on the couch. At that moment, Kurt entered the room and pushed on each of their shoulders, forcing them apart.

"No touching," he called as he went through to the kitchen.

Finn let out a huff, but the edges of his lips were tilted up. "I'm sorry about Kurt. He's just trying to do the right thing."

"I know," Rachel said, looking down at her lap. "I'm lucky that I have him to do that for me."

"Everyone's lucky to have Kurt," Blaine said, walking through the door. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tug it back into an acceptable shape. Finn raised his eyebrows at him and Blaine blushed. He gave Finn a tiny scowl and placed himself between the two of them, wiggling into the gap. Rachel huffed and shifted up to the edge of the couch, resting her elbow on the arm. Finn purposefully jostled Blaine as he shifted away.

Kurt came back, carrying a bag of potato chips, which he tossed at Finn. He paused, lips quirking up at the sight of the three of them cramped together on one piece of furniture, Blaine looking extremely pleased with himself, hair still a mess. "So, Finn," he said, settling himself in one of the armchairs, "you've been watching Rachel sing?"

"It sounds so weird when you say it like that."

"If it quacks like a duck."

"Blaine," Kurt warned, trying not to laugh. Rachel rolled her eyes and asked Blaine about the Warblers. Kurt watched them talk, looking ridiculous all pressed together, Blaine turning his head from side to side as if he were watching tennis to keep up with the conversation. Kurt wondered, inexplicably, where the man had sat – was it where he was sitting? Where Blaine was? He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Now was not the time to start feeling, not when everything was going as close to perfect as it could be.

* * *

><p>"<em>The headline for today: Congressman Wyatt died last night in what is being described as a freak accident. No exact details of the event have been released, although rumours say that a chicken was involved. Our condolences go out to his family.<em>

_Aside from curiosity, Congressman Wyatt's death will inevitably lead to a special congressional election over the next few weeks. Already, people are talking about who will be putting themselves into the running…"_

Kurt reached out to grab the remote, but Burt took it back from him, shaking his head just slightly. Kurt rolled his eyes and left his dad to it, not wanting to hear any more about Congress than he really had to; it still left a sour taste in his mouth. He pulled milk from the fridge, warming some for himself and Finn and dropping the latter mug off on his way to his room. Finn was engrossed in a video game, homework abandoned beside him with what looked suspiciously like a sombrero in one of the answer spaces, so Kurt just set it on his desk and quickly retreated.

He curled up under his covers, thumbing through _Vogue_ and sipping at his milk occasionally. He found himself drifting more than once, letting out heavy sighs into the silence of his room. He turned on a quiet playlist and tried to concentrate on the glossy pages.

The week had been odd. Everything had been slightly tainted with what he wasn't feeling, added to the fact that Blaine had been forced to stay late for Warblers practice more than once, meaning he left school too late to come and see Kurt. A few days without Blaine and he felt like his skin was itching, too big and too small as he sat on the couch, watching Finn and Rachel bond without _bonding_ and feeling like a little child, left in the corner with no-one to play with. He wasn't depressed, he was still sleeping, and his dad hadn't noticed that anything was wrong with him. He wasn't _bad_, but he felt very close to being so. Therefore, he tried to forget, because by pushing it away, maybe he could convince himself that it wasn't there.

When his phone rang he almost fell out of bed in his enthusiasm to get to it. "Blaine."

"_Hi, Kurt_." Blaine's voice was soft in his own bedroom as he tried not to disturb anyone else in the house. "_God, I miss you_."

Kurt sighed, setting his empty mug on his bedside table and flopping back into the pillows. "The feeling is mutual, believe me. How's the warbling going?"

"_Great._" Blaine's bed creaked. "_It's been intense, but everything's really coming together now. I wish you could see it._"

"So do I."

"_I'm sorry._"

"What for? You shouldn't be sorry for practising."

"_No, for everything. That you can't come to the competition, mainly. But everything._"

"Why are you sorry for things that are out of your control? You know I don't blame you for it. I'm sad that I can't see you perform, especially when you have a solo—"

"_Two._"

Kurt laughed. "Yes, two solos. But you can give me a private performance once you're sure Finn won't overhear you and sell you out to the New Directions. Don't worry about me so much."

"_Can't help it. It comes from loving you too much._"

"Well, maybe you can show how much on Friday, hmm?"

There was the sound of shifting covers down the line. "_Actually, about Friday._"

"They're making you stay late on a _Friday_? That's slave labour!"

"_I – no. No, one of the guys is having a party Friday night. It's like a bonding evening and a way to stress out Wes all rolled into one._"

"Oh."

"_I'll cancel in a heartbeat if you want to see me._"

"No." Kurt closed his eyes, holding his sigh in. "I wouldn't make you do that. I _shouldn't_. We've been here before: I'm not the only person in your life."

"_But you're the most important one._"

Kurt couldn't help a smile at that. "Have fun at the party, Blaine. Just make sure to tell me everything. Well, everything you remember."

Blaine laughed then, and Kurt let the sound settle him in his bones. "_I'm not going to get drunk, Kurt. I have some control._"

"I somehow doubt you know your limits."

* * *

><p>"What are you doing Friday night?" Kurt asked over breakfast.<p>

Finn blinked up from his plate, pushing his hair off his forehead and frowning. He looked like he'd left half of himself in his bed, still dead to the world under the covers. "Puck's taking me to some party. He said something about prep school boys and… girls in knee socks."

Kurt paused with his coffee cup pressed to his lips. "What kind of prep school boys?"

Finn groaned. "I don't know. I don't think Puck's actually invited, he just gatecrashes these things."

Kurt nodded slowly, taking another sip of coffee. "Sounds thrilling."

Finn dropped his head into his hand and continued to eat.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing this weekend?"<p>

"_My parents are taking me on a Bible retreat. I know you don't like it, but I'm actually really looking forward to it. Might meet a nice boy, don't you think?_"

* * *

><p>"My dads are helping to further my emotional education by taking me to an evening of all the great Broadway love songs, complete with a Barbra Streisand lookalike. Obviously, it will be hard for me to resist taking to the stage and showing them all how it's really done, but I will have to hold myself back. I think too many people would want to come on stage and give me a kiss on the cheek for the emotional enlightenment I have given them with the power of my voice…"<p>

* * *

><p>"Dad—"<p>

"Kurt! Do you think Breadstix is fancy enough for me to take Carole to? I want to treat her to a date this Friday."

"I've never been to Breadstix, Dad."

"Right. I'll ask Finn, but you can't go wrong with Italian food, right?"

* * *

><p>Kurt sat himself in front of his sewing machine with a determined expression, his fabrics box beside him. He stared at it for a few minutes before picking up one of the lengths of material and laying it across his lap. After another minute or two, he put it back in the box. He took out another one, considered it, then discarded it also. Frustrated, he lifted the box onto his desk, rifling through it in an attempt to find any form of inspiration. When his fingers scraped the bottom he let out a choked noise and shoved the box off the desk. Bright colours spilled across the floor, satin slipping over cotton to spread rainbow across the wood. He let it lie there until he couldn't any more, and he gathered it all up in his arms. He folded everything and put it back in its rightful place, trying to make the slight shake of his fingers disappear with the practised movements.<p>

_Being lonely isn't a weakness._ He'd said it to Rachel, he could say it to himself. But what right had he to be lonely? He had people who loved him. Just because they were all going to busy at the same time and Kurt was going to be alone for one evening, didn't mean he could decide he was lonely. That would be pathetic.

"I'm pathetic," he whispered, hands stilled on the sides of the box.

_You're not pathetic_, he heard Blaine's voice say. _You're so strong, Kurt._

"Not strong enough to stop myself feeling lonely." He forced himself to put the box away and stop, because he had reached the stage of talking to himself, and now he wasn't just pathetic and lonely, he was also _mad_, and why would anyone want someone like that?

* * *

><p>There was a knock on his door a while later. "Kurt?" Carole's voice called from the other side.<p>

"Come in."

She did so, and surveyed the room from the doorway. He sighed and dragged his eyes from the ceiling to look at her. Her lips were set into a line, eyes taking in how he was sprawled across the bed with numerous failed distractions piled around him. She shut the door behind her and perched on the end of his bed. He didn't sit up.

"Did you hear about Congressman Wyatt?"

"I saw the news report."

"Something about a chicken," Carole said, grinning and squeezing his leg in an attempt to tease a laugh out of him. He gave her a half-hearted smile. "Kurt, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"What's all of this, then?" She picked up a piece of embroidery from beside his leg, and gestured with it to a line of paper girls holding hands that lay crushed by his elbow.

"I'm allowed to experiment."

"This doesn't look like experimenting."

Kurt just shrugged and closed his eyes.

"Blaine's been practising a lot this week."

"I know."

"Have you spoken to him?"

"Every day. We're fine Carole, please. Everything's fine."

"Kurt, you know I'm only looking out for you."

"Why does everyone think I need to be coddled?" His voice was loud, almost a shout, and he quietened it immediately, pushing himself up to lean on his elbows. "I'm not a baby, Carole. I can fend for myself in the big bad world. Everyone just insists on worrying about me all the time when there's really no need for it."

She stroked his leg, not flinching back from his anger. "We just love you, Kurt. Worrying about you comes with that."

"I'm not a child."

"I know." She gripped his leg harder. "I _know_, Kurt. You're strong, and you're brave, and you've been through so many things. But I still get to care about you, and I will. Don't push us away, sweetheart."

He flopped back onto the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. After a minute without a reply, he felt Carole get to her feet. She stroked his ankle once more and then there was the sound of her footsteps heading towards the door.

Kurt wiped the tears from his eyes a few minutes later, the warmth of her hand still a ghost on his skin.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing with Finn?" Quinn barked, stopping by Rachel's locker. She crossed her arms over her chest, ponytail swishing.<p>

She'd never approached Rachel before. People never did. Rachel was surprised she even knew who she was. Quinn, Captain Q, Queen Fabray did not descend from on high to speak to unworthy mortals. She sat in her gilded throne, and threw stones. Rachel avoided crowds, so she couldn't remember a time when she had passed Quinn Fabray in the hallway. They hadn't taken any classes together and Rachel ate lunch under the bleachers, hiding from The Skanks behind one of the empty barrels left there after a football game, so it wasn't like they'd had any form of contact. All the same, Rachel knew who she was. She may not have been the first, but Quinn whispered the words 'freak' and 'skin disease' along with everybody else, and people had believed her. For that, at least, Rachel had to thank her.

She turned her head over her shoulder for a second, not making eye contact, just to show that she had heard. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me, Berry. Your dirty-skinned freak magic won't work on me." Her foot stamped on the floor and Rachel span towards her before she could grab her shoulder to do it for her. Quinn stepped closer, chin jutting forwards, and Rachel tried to melt back into the lockers. She could feel Quinn's breath on her cheeks, and that was far too close. "I don't know what you're doing, hobbit, but it stops now. Do not. Touch him."

Rachel almost laughed in her face. Oh, if only she could.

She kept silent, knowing it was best to let Quinn have her victory so she wouldn't be hungry for more. Talking back would lead to shoving – or so Rachel had heard, although maybe she needed to have had a boob job to warrant that. The last person Rachel needed shoving her was Quinn.

Quinn stared her down for a few prolonged, dramatic seconds, seemingly trying to force her message across (as if it wasn't clear enough). Then she whipped around, shoes squeaking on the hall floors, and stalked off. Her ponytail had slapped Rachel in the face and she had never been more grateful for dead cells in her life.

* * *

><p><em>It feels good.<em>

Kurt knew he couldn't listen to his internal Rachel voice. That would lead to bad places, he was sure. But she had made it seem so _attractive_. Kurt was sick of being careful with his emotions. Months of heartbreak over Blaine had left him exhausted. Then there was the Rachel drama, the Quinn fiasco, and now his tendency towards pathetic loneliness… Kurt just wanted a break. He wanted a distraction.

He walked down a street that shouldn't be as unfamiliar to him as it was, being in such a small town. There seemed to be a school on it which he assumed was McKinley. He couldn't be sure.

A boy with huge shoulders, meaty hands and a Letterman jacket stomped out of the school gates. Kurt wondered why he wasn't driving home. Suddenly, he found himself telling himself not to care. This didn't feel like it had been set up by fate, designed so he would run into this boy, in this place, at this point in both their lives. Kurt didn't consider that fate didn't work that way; it didn't decide to act on certain occasions. It was omnipresent in his life, guiding every brush of a fingertip, if he believed in it at all. He didn't think about that. He could only see that he didn't know this boy and he never would. It was perfect.

He sped up, wanting to reach the footballer – he recognised the Titans jacket – before he crossed the road. The larger boy glanced up at him, but his eyes didn't linger. As Kurt drew closer, he wondered how he'd go about this. Could he just brush a fingertip against the boy's skin? Would he notice? Kurt supposed that would have to be the way, regardless of the risks. He passed the boy and stretched out a hand, uncurling one finger.

When his fingertip was a hair's breadth away from the other boy's skin, too late to pull it back, Kurt panicked. What if he fell in love? What about Blaine? He could imagine Blaine's face if he knew what Kurt was about to do. Kurt felt a sharp swoop of fear in his gut, but it was too late. His fingertips just touched the back of the footballer's hand. It wasn't even really a touch. The other boy didn't notice it and kept on walking, crossing the road. But in those few following seconds that touch was everything to Kurt. He felt it in his bones as he shivered, letting the love travel into every cell.

He opened his eyes. He let out a heavy breath. Friendship. Just friendship.

Relief swept through him. He and Blaine were safe. It was just friendship. Kurt was about to turn his head to watch the boy walk away, but the Rachel in his head stopped him. He couldn't look back. He had to walk away, let his heart break, and just feel it. That emotion had to course through him, give him something new in his life.

Kurt liked to think he was strong, but as he walked away from the boy, tears spilling out of his eyes and onto his cheeks, he knew that he was not.


	28. Scar Tissue

_Author's Note: The length of this one got really out of hand. I was deprived of internet connection for a few days, and more things just kept happening, and so it turned into some sort of monster. Sorry! It also went massively off its intended path, but I'm starting to come to terms with that being normal. Sigh. Anyway, onwards!_

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 26 - Scar Tissue<em>

"_Kurt… Kurt, baby, it's so pretty here. There's one girl, her dress, Kurt, it sparkles… You're so beautiful. I don't tell you that enough. You should just – you should become my music. Muse. My music muse. You can lie back and I can make… music… Finn's here! Did I tell you that? Finn! And he's so taaaaall, Kurt, have you ever noticed how tall he his? He looked so funny all curled up on the floor. We played spin the bottle. Please don't be angry. I only kissed one person and she was a _girl_. I kissed a girl and liked iiiit… What if I did like it? She had nice knee socks. My parents would be happy. If I liked it. Her. If I liked her. Things would be so eaaasy. But maybe I don't want easy. I like things when they're hard. I like _you _when you're hard. Actually, I like you all the time. You have such a pretty cock, have I ever told you that? No, Puck, mine! Give it back! He's taking it, Kurt, make him stop—_"

* * *

><p>Blaine groaned in the back of his throat, the sound catching on the cotton wool dryness. He groped blindly for the glass of water he kept by his bed, but his hand hit an edge and scrabbled, finding nothing. He groaned again and blinked his eyes open, wincing at the light. He became aware of something warm pressed up against him, wrapped around his torso. The room finally swam into focus, painfully familiar.<p>

Kurt pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. "How's your head?" he murmured, hand stroking across Blaine's side. Blaine moaned in reply and Kurt huffed a laugh against his skin. "Come on, let's get you downstairs before my dad sees you."

Blaine whimpered and pressed back into Kurt's chest, pulling his arm tighter around him. "Don't wanna move."

"I know, but it's move or be murdered by my father. Your choice."

"I love you. Too much, sometimes."

"Never too much." Kurt kissed his nape again. "Now, up."

After a few minutes, Kurt managed to get Blaine out of bed and slumped at his kitchen table, blinking blearily at the light. Kurt set about making fruit juice, eggs and bacon, glancing back occasionally to check on him.

"You've been crying."

"What?" Kurt placed a glass of juice in front of him.

"Your eyes are red. You look like you've been crying."

"I'm fine. Drink your juice."

Blaine took a sip in silence, watching Kurt cook with an unsettled sensation in his stomach that had nothing to do with the alcohol. When Kurt set two plates on the table and took the seat beside him, Blaine grabbed his hand. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm _fine_, Blaine, please. It's you we should be worrying about, my little drunk dialler."

Blaine gaped at him. "Oh, god, I didn't."

"You did."

"Kurt, whatever I said, I'm so sorry."

"You were mostly pretty flattering." Kurt sipped at his own glass of juice, watching Blaine squirm over the rim. "Who's the girl you're leaving me for?"

Blaine moaned and dropped his head into his hands. "No."

"Bit rude to kiss her and leave her, isn't it?"

"Please, _please_, stop."

Kurt smiled, tracing his fingertips up and down the cool sides of his glass. "You said your parents would be happy. If you liked a girl."

Blaine sighed. "I'm an idiot. And you know I would never leave you, especially for a girl and especially not because it would be easier."

"Should I be worried that you kissed someone else?"

Blaine lifted his head, catching Kurt's expression. He slid a hand over the table to grip his arm. "I wouldn't have done it if it was a guy, not without you there. I know I shouldn't have either way, and I'm sorry."

"We all do things without thinking," Kurt said, and the soft sadness to his voice startled Blaine. "We're all reckless." He gripped Blaine's hand. "Do you think it's okay to be reckless, as long as no-one gets hurt in the end?"

"What do you mean?"

"You kissed a girl, you kissed someone else, without really thinking about the consequences. But I'm not upset because I know you didn't intend it in a harmful way. Is that – is that okay?"

"I still feel guilty about it," Blaine replied, stroking his thumb across Kurt's hand. "But that's me. I feel bad that I would throw our relationship around even a little bit."

"Right." Kurt nodded slowly, lips pressed together. He withdrew his hand and started clearing his untouched plate away.

"Kurt, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Why do people keep asking me that?"

"You just…" He watched Kurt rinse his plate in silence. "Why did I wake up in your bed?"

"Finn didn't want to send you home like that, so he brought you back here. He thought it would be better if you stayed with me. He must have been pretty out of it to completely forget his protective brother routine."

Blaine nodded. "Thank you for looking after me."

Kurt gave a tiny smile and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Got to take care of the people you love."

Blaine tugged him down into a kiss, making Kurt giggle. A quick peck turned into Kurt winding his fingers into Blaine's hair and holding him close, refusing to let go. Blaine wanted to worry about the need that was in the gesture – not a desperate, kiss-me-now kind of need, but more like Kurt was afraid Blaine would slip away if he let go. Blaine kissed him back just as hard, trying to show Kurt that he wasn't going anywhere.

* * *

><p>Blaine liked to think that he was perceptive. He probably should have become disillusioned long ago, considering how oblivious he had been to Kurt's feelings, but he still allowed himself to be convinced most of the time. So as he accepted his medium drip from his favourite barista, his mind was busy replaying all of the oddities of Kurt's expressions and movements over the last week. Blaine had found him with a hint of red to the rims of his eyes; he had flinched when Finn came home, flinging his Titans jacket onto the couch where Kurt was sitting. They were little things, but again, Blaine liked to pride himself on his perceptiveness (sometimes).<p>

Most noticeably, Kurt had been avoiding Rachel. The way their relationship worked, it was painfully obvious. She would come home with Finn, and Kurt would leave the room, sometimes dragging Blaine with him and sometimes just leaving him there, saying he had something he needed to take care of. It was worrying Rachel, Blaine could see that.

"Are we going to talk about what's going on with you?" Blaine asked, leaning back against Kurt's bedroom door and watching his boyfriend unfold and refold fabric.

"There's nothing to talk about. I haven't left the house this week. There you go, wasn't that fun?"

"Don't be like that with me. If you're angry, tell me you're angry, don't do that."

Kurt put the box of fabrics back in the cupboard. "How many people do you think Rachel's touched this week?"

"Six." He nodded when Kurt looked at him. "She drove out to Columbus."

"That's more than before."

"You haven't been talking to her, Kurt."

"Oh, so it's my fault?"

"I didn't say that."

The afternoon had been tense, with Kurt continually snapping at everyone until Blaine had left, unable to deal with it if Kurt wasn't telling him what was wrong.

He took a sip of his coffee, the liquid just the right side of burning hot, and sat himself at a table. He'd left Kurt's house early – early enough for his mother to start questioning him again, so he took the time. He popped the lid off his cup and dipped the end of a piece of biscotti in, sucking the coffee out of it absentmindedly as he watched the people around him. He never had the time to do this any more – just sit, and observe, without having a place to be or a place to get to. It was a constant rolling day from the moment he left his bed: water, food, clothes, hair, car; school, Warblers, car, Kurt; car, silence, sleep. He didn't hate it, but there was always something about change that made his head feel a little lighter.

He scanned the queue of people at the counter. A girl in a red and white uniform stepped up to make her order, high ponytail swishing as she looked up at the barista with an all-American smile. Her pleated skirt swayed around her hips as she rose onto her toes; it wasn't for any reason, so Blaine assumed it was just habit. She lowered herself to the ground again, scanning the rows of pastries as she waited. She tightened her pony and pulled the bottom of her jacket into place, rearranging the shoulders. She took her coffee with another smile, teeth pearly white and green eyes sparkling. Blaine was pretty sure that, were he into girls, he'd be halfway to being in love with her already.

When she turned, hair flicking behind her and swooping to rest in little curls at the side of her neck, her eyes scanned the room, looking for a spare seat. The shop was almost completely full, and there were only chairs at other people's tables free. Her eyes landed on Blaine and she tilted her head, making her way over to him.

"Excuse me, can I sit here?" Her voice was what Blaine had expected, if only a little deeper, and he smiled up at her, waving at the empty seat across from him.

"Sure, go ahead."

The girl took the seat, crossing her legs and popping the lid off her own cup. Blaine looked at the dark drink inside and a small smile played at the edges of his lips. "Long black?"

"Americano," she replied, taking a sip. "Has more of an edge to it."

"Would have taken you for more of a latte person." She raised her eyebrows at him, making him smile. He reached out to tap his cup against hers. "Medium drip."

"To black coffee." She raised her glass in toast.

"To black coffee." He shook his head and took a gulp of his own drink, cool enough now. "What's with the uniform?"

"Haven't you ever seen a cheerleader before?"

"Don't have many of those at all-boy prep schools."

"Dalton?"

"McKinley?"

She grinned. "Was it the colours that gave me away?"

"No, it was your wit and charm."

"For which McKinley is famed." She rolled her eyes and set her drink on the table, holding out her hand. "Quinn Fabray."

Blaine's fingers tightened around his cup. His smile suddenly felt stretched. He took her hand and shook it. "Blaine Anderson."

"Nice to meet you, Blaine. What are you doing in Lima?"

He paused for a moment, staring at her. "Visiting my boyfriend."

He watched her eyebrows twitch upwards on her forehead. Then she brushed at the top of her hair, smoothing imaginary flyaways, and took another drag of coffee. "I'm jealous. My boyfriend won't let me visit him since he moved into his new house."

Blaine held in a snort. "Doesn't sound very healthy."

"Well, it's not as bad as him hanging around the school freak. Sometimes I think he spends more time with her than he does with me."

Blaine shrugged, fingers flexing around his cup. "Maybe he likes her."

Quinn glared at him. "You should work on your tact, Blaine Anderson." She rearranged her pleats across her thighs, picking a tiny piece of fluff off her skirt and flicking it away with her fingers. "I can tell what you're thinking."

"And what's that?"

"That I'm a cheerleading, all-American Daddy's Girl whose biggest problem is waiting for her curling irons to heat up. It's narrow-minded."

"I would have said your biggest problem was your boyfriend, from what you've told me."

She scowled, grabbing her cup again. "And doesn't that make me sound like an intelligent, independent woman."

"Are you?"

She pursed her lips, running a finger around the rim of her cup. "No. But I want to be. I wish I could be."

"Well, why can't you?"

"Because this is easier. Because I worked to get here, so people wouldn't take time out of their day to make fun of me, or throw slushies in my face. Because I _can_ be this, and isn't this what everyone wants? Why would I throw that away?"

Blaine shrugged. "It doesn't seem to be getting you anywhere."

Quinn looked up at him then, making eye contact for the first time since they'd shaken hands. She gave an infinitesimal shake of her head, millimetres from left to right, and slid her hand down the length of her coffee cup. "You make it so easy to tell you things, but I don't understand why."

Blaine took another drink, eyes shifting from hers. "I don't either, if that helps."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each taking the occasional sip of bitter liquid when the heat and taste started to run out of their mouth. Seats freed up around them as the post-work crowd started to move out. Neither of them shifted from their table.

"Ever thought about giving it all up?"

"The uniform?" Quinn asked, watching a couple at another table. "I've had to before, but that wasn't something I chose." Something was battling behind her eyes that made Blaine lean closer. He knew he should have left long ago, as soon as he found out who she was, but something about her made him feel he had to stay. "Maybe I should just give it up and become a Skank."

"A what?" Blaine said, the hint of a laugh to his voice.

"A Skank," Quinn replied, gesturing with her coffee. "They're these unwashed 'bad girls' with nicotine addictions. They hang out under the bleachers at McKinley."

"Doesn't sound like you."

"How would you know?" Quinn gave him a tight-lipped smile. "You don't know anything about me."

"Actually." Blaine leaned forward in his chair, making Quinn glance over at him. "I think I might know more about you than a lot of people."

"It's your eyes – they're like truth magnets," she half-teased, lips quirking up. She sat herself up a little straighter, pulling her skirt neat again. She buttoned another button on her cheer jacket, pressing all her secrets back inside so Blaine knew he would get no more out of her. She stood up, taking her empty coffee cup with her. "It was nice to meet you, Blaine." She held out her hand, and they shook again.

"The pleasure's mine, Fabray."

She hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and turned away. After a few steps, she twirled back to him. "Will you be here next week?"

"Do you want me to be?"

"Have an Americano on the table and I'll think about it." She span away, dropping her cup in the trash and shaking her shoulders out before heading for the door.

Blaine slumped back in his chair, hand still cradling his empty coffee cup. He let out a heavy breath, watching Quinn's red and white clad form pass through the parking lot and disappear behind a car door.

So that was Quinn Fabray.

* * *

><p>Kurt peered around the back of a car, watching him split off from his friends and hoping that Finn wasn't among them. He moved around the parking lot, placing himself on the right path and staring at his blank phone screen. Sure enough, a few footsteps later, he banged into a large form in a Letterman jacket.<p>

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He stepped back, looking up. "I wasn't looking. Actually, I'm a bit lost, could you help—"

"Watch where you're walking, fag." The footballer shoved past him, sending Kurt stumbling into the wall, and left without another word.

"Kurt! Hey, man, what are you doing here?" Finn grabbed his arm, patting him on the back. "Did you drive here? Awesome, because Puck picked me up this morning, but he's off with Lauren Zizes and I really didn't want to hitch a ride with Azimio, you know?"

Kurt didn't really know what he was doing until his arms were around Finn's waist, but he was hugging him tightly. Suddenly, Finn was pushing at his arms, prying him away. "Hey, Kurt, um. Not here, okay?" Finn glanced towards the pack of Letterman jackets. "Some of the guys are kind of… They don't…"

"They don't like gay people," Kurt said, wrapping his arms around himself. "Yeah, I think I got that."

Finn looked over his shoulder. "Did you run into Karofsky?"

"Is that…?" Kurt tilted his head back.

"Yeah. He's one of the worst ones. I'm so sorry, Kurt. Seriously."

Kurt shook his head and turned away, heading towards the car. Finn's footfalls followed behind him, pausing only when Kurt got in the passenger door.

"You're driving," he murmured, leaning his head against the window and hooking his fingers over the chain hanging across the front of his jacket. His thumb traced along the links, reaching the feathered metal circle pin at the end and sliding back again. He focused on the movement while the car started to rumble beneath him and Finn drove them out of the lot. The silence lasted a few minutes until Kurt felt Finn look over at him and knew what was coming.

"Kurt, you okay? You seem a bit… out of it."

"I'm fine," Kurt said on a sigh, staring out of the window and running his fingertip round and round his circle pin.

"Did Karofsky say something to you?"

Kurt's fingertip paused. "What's his first name?" He could sense Finn giving him a look from the other side of the car.

"David. Kurt, if he did anything to you, I swear—"

"No." Kurt's voice was quiet, but the tone was clear and made Finn snap his mouth shut at once. Kurt didn't say anything more; he tilted his cheek against the cool glass of the window and watched the unfamiliar streets of his hometown fly past in blurs of colour.

* * *

><p>"Blaine." His voice cracked and he knew Blaine had heard it.<p>

"_Kurt? What's going on? Are you okay?_"

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong. I was just… thinking."

"_You don't sound like you've been 'just thinking'._"

"Have people ever been rude to you because – because of your sexuality?"

There was a pause at Blaine's end, and Kurt could just make out his breathing. "_Why?_"

"I just, I've never had that. I've heard about it, but… has it happened to you?"

"_I don't understand why you're asking this now._"

"Blaine, what did they do to you?"

"_Why are you pushing this?_" Blaine snapped, and Kurt jumped at the bite of it."_What do you know?_"

"I don't – Blaine, I don't know anything, that's why I'm asking."

Blaine sighed so heavily the phone crackled. "_It was a really bad time for me, Kurt._"

"You can tell me, if you want to. But, Blaine…" Kurt pressed a hand to his eyes, mostly dry now, although the tear tracks were still sticky on his cheeks. "If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to say anything."

"_I want to. I should have told you ages ago, but – I try not to think about it._" Kurt stayed silent, hand pressed over his mouth to hide his ragged breathing, and waited for Blaine to go on in his own time. "_It was before I went to Dalton._"

Kurt bit into the knuckle of his forefinger as he listened to Blaine tell the story. His voice was detached a little, holding the words at a distance from his heart, and he tried to laugh it off at the end, but it was too hollow to be effective.

"_It was bad, Kurt, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. People have been through worse._"

"I'm so sorry," Kurt whispered, running his thumb under his eye to gather the renewed teardrops.

"_Don't. It wasn't you._" Blaine let out another sigh, shakier this time. "_Tell me why you want to know._"

"Someone called me a fag today."

"_What? Who? Kurt, what—_"

"Don't – it's not as bad as what you went through. Blaine…"

"_Just because it isn't extreme, doesn't make it _okay_, Kurt. Do you want me to come over?_"

"It'll be the middle of the night by the time you get here. Just talk to me."

"_Yeah,_" Blaine said, voice soft. "_Yeah, of course._"

They were silent for a minute and Kurt just listened to Blaine breathe, trying to slow his own heart rate down.

"_Who was it?_"

"No-one. Just someone in the street."

"… _You know I can hear it when you lie to me._"

"I can't tell you, Blaine. I _can't_. It'll just make everything worse."

"_You're scaring me, Kurt._"

Kurt shushed him, rolling onto his side and curling his free arm into his chest. "I just wanted to talk to you. Please don't worry. People about me too much as it is."

"_It—_"

"—comes from a place of caring, I know. Trust me, Blaine, please. I will tell you, just not today."

Blaine huffed into the phone and Kurt could imagine him running his fingers through his hair. "_I hate this._"

"Sing to me," he whispered.

"_What?_"

"Will you sing to me? Please."

"_I – yes. What do you—?_"

"You choose."

"_Okay. Just lie back, okay?_"

Kurt hummed, pushing his legs under the covers and curling his body up in the warmth, the phone still pressed to his ear. He waited, listening to Blaine think. When the first notes crackled down the phone, Kurt smiled at the sweetness of them although he didn't recognise the song. He pulled the covers closer around him and let the soft melody lull him to sleep.

* * *

><p>"I'm going run for Congress."<p>

Kurt and Finn looked up from their food, shocked expressions painting their faces.

"Dad, what are you talking about?"

Burt took Carole's hand, smiling at her. "I've thought about it a lot over the last week. Congressman Wyatt's death has left a seat open. I want to be able to make a difference to this world, to your life Kurt, and this is a way I can do that. I can fight against that bill, make people see that it's wrong. I can try to change things for the better."

Finn reached out to shake Burt's hand across the table. "That's really awesome, Burt."

"Dad, what about the media?"

"We'll deal with them when we get there."

"They dig up everything – I've seen it happen. Any secret you've ever had is splashed across the front pages of the local newspaper. Haven't I spent my whole life hiding from the rest of the world? And now you're going to what? Make all of that worth nothing? Because everyone's going to know about me. They're going to know what I am and they're going to know you've been hiding me and pretending I don't exist!"

Burt sighed and rearranged himself in his chair. "Kurt, look, you think I haven't thought about that? Why do you think I waited to so long to decide? But I need your help, kiddo. I need you to show everyone why this bill is wrong, to tell them the truth. You gotta be part of this with me."

"You really think people are going to be receptive to your gay faerie son?"

"Not at first, but we'll get them there."

Kurt laid down his cutlery. "I'm not really hungry any more."

"Go on," Burt gestured with his head to the door. "Go and think about it. If you don't want me to do it, Kurt, I promise you I won't, but I want you to think on it first."

Kurt nodded, standing up. "I'll talk to you when I've decided."

Burt took his arm and pulled him down into a hug. After a moment, Kurt returned it. "Thanks for doing this, Kurt. It means a lot."

"I'm not the one who's willing to fight for his son's rights," Kurt quipped, pulling back with a smile.

"Maybe not, but I'm hoping you're gonna fight for your own."

* * *

><p>Blaine's house was empty again. Once Cooper had swept away, back to his life far from the Anderson household, their parents had been growing more and more absent. The silence felt louder every day, always such a contrast to the convoluted sound blast of Warblers practice. They were away on a business weekend, and Blaine was left to rattle around the empty rooms, waiting for Kurt to arrive.<p>

He curled up in a chair in the library, a book across his lap, and leafed through the pages. If asked, he didn't think he would remember the story. He slotted Kurt's circle pin onto the end of his finger, spinning it around with his thumb. He grinned.

"_Blaine, are you wearing my pin? Oh my god, you are so '50s, it's adorable."_

He kissed the feathered edge and twisted to attach the pin to the front of his cardigan. His doorbell rang then and he scrambled out of the chair, book still in hand as he ran to the door. He threw it open to find Kurt on the other side, grinning at his enthusiasm. Blaine pulled him inside, held him close and kissed him, smiling against his lips. When they broke apart, Kurt's fingers walked up his chest to trace around the pin there.

"I like you having this."

Blaine kissed his neck, mouthing his lips up the skin to Kurt's jaw. "I get to have a little piece of you with me all the time."

"And it scares off all the other boys."

Blaine laughed. "Like they'd even get close." He licked at Kurt's skin and Kurt gasped, tilting his head back. Blaine smiled, kissing the spit-slick skin and drawing Kurt towards the staircase.

"Always in such a rush, Blaine."

He whined, trying to tug Kurt up the stairs. Kurt just pulled away from him, eyes sparkling, and sashayed into the kitchen. "You're making me lunch, then we can – what did they call it back then?" Blaine trailed after him, shrugging at Kurt's tilted head. "Park," Kurt said, remembering.

Blaine frowned. "Wait, you want me to drive you?"

"No, Blaine," Kurt said, gripping his face in his hands and laughing. "No, I want to stay right here."

* * *

><p>When they finally made it up to Blaine's room – Kurt ate teasingly slowly, insisting on savouring every last bite until Blaine actually pulled him out of his seat, making his fork clatter to the floor – everything seemed to be on fast-forward. They were half naked and rolling around before they realised it, Kurt leaning up to press Blaine back into the bed by his mouth.<p>

"Let me blow you," he whispered, hand sliding under the waistband of Blaine's jeans to where he was already half-hard. "Please, Blaine, let me."

Blaine's fingers wrapped around his wrist, drawing his hand back out. "Kurt."

Kurt sighed and flopped onto his back. He lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, then let out a sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Stop being sorry for everything." Blaine laid his head on Kurt's shoulder, throwing an arm across his chest. "You're allowed to ask for what you want."

"But I just keep pushing myself at you and you're not ready for it." He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "I don't deserve you at all."

"Don't say that," Blaine whispered. "If anything, I don't deserve _you_."

"Don't be silly. I wouldn't have a life without you." Kurt didn't mean to be bitter, but the bite of it edged into his tone all the same.

Blaine lifted up onto one elbow, looking down at Kurt with a worried expression that was becoming all too familiar. "Kurt, please tell me what's wrong. You said… When you called me the other day, you said you'd tell me, just not then. I hate knowing that you're keeping something from me and I can see what it's doing to you. Just…" He leaned over to press a kiss above Kurt's heart. "Just let me in." When he looked up again, Kurt was pressing his face into the pillow, hand coming up to grip at Blaine's shoulder.

"I'm scared, Blaine."

Blaine let out a tiny whimper of sympathy and crawled up Kurt's body to wrap his arms around him, pressing kisses to his cheeks. "Don't be. It's just me."

Kurt clutched at the front of Blaine's shirt, kissing his collarbone. "Just… try not to be too angry with me."

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: The song Blaine sings to Kurt is Joanna Newsom's 'Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie' (youtube . com  watch?v=F-xUpdO3g44). It's a really beautiful song, makes my bones tingle. _


	29. Tighten Up

_Author's Note: I_ think long is my permanent state now. I hope nobody minds. Next update should be quick as I've almost finished the next chapter, whoop! Be kind to my little Blainers, he has lots to deal with.__

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 27 - Tighten Up<em>

Quinn slipped into the seat opposite him with a sigh edged with weariness, and Blaine noted that her ponytail was even higher than the week before. He wondered how stressed she had to be before it was too high to go any further. Maybe that was when she chopped it off and dyed it. He hoped he never had to see her reach that point.

"More boyfriend troubles?" he asked, sliding her cup towards her. She took a long drink from it, holding the cup to her nose as if trying to inhale the caffeine from the steam. "You came," he said when she didn't answer.

"So did you." They took a sip in unison. "You first."

"What makes you think I have anything to say?"

"Why did you come if you don't?"

"Maybe I thought I'd give you someone to talk to."

"You got a large drip coffee. That's not the drink of a person whose life is just the way they want it."

Blaine picked at the lid, sliding his thumb around the edge. "Have you ever wanted to forgive someone for something, but you're not sure how to do it?"

"More times than is healthy. I always manage to convince myself in the end." She watched him as he slumped his head onto his hand. "This is a boyfriend thing, isn't it? Did he cheat on you?"

"Not exactly."

"He either did or he didn't. There is no middle ground. Believe me, I'd know."

"If anything, I cheated on him. Does it count if it was a girl and I was drunk?"

"Spin the Bottle?"

Blaine shivered at the words, letting out a nod and lifting his cup to his lips as if to wash out the memory. "I didn't know beer could do that to a person."

"You should try tequila."

Blaine snorted. "Long blacks and tequila. What are you, thirty?"

"Feels like it sometimes." She sighed again – like this was her one slot of opportunity in the week to do so and she wasn't wasting her time – and stood up, heading to the counter. Blaine watched her slip her breastplate and helmet back on and smile brightly at the barista, rewarded a minute later with a plate of biscotti. She set it on the table and took a piece of biscotti for herself. Blaine followed suit, popping the cap on the hot cup and dipping, waiting for the coffee to soak up, before sucking it back out again.

"You have the weirdest quirks, you know that?" she said, watching him. Blaine rolled his eyes at her, biting the coffee-softened end of the biscotti. "I sometimes think my boyfriend's cheating on me. Then I realise he'd never be able to keep that kind of secret. He has the biggest mouth known to man and not in a good way."

Blaine thought of Finn, of how he even knew who Quinn was in the first place. He managed to stop himself from laughing too loudly at the apt description, but a small chuckle escaped all the same. "Why date him?"

"Because he's the quarterback. We're going to be Prom King and Queen, get married and be the high school sweethearts everyone in this town wishes they were." Blaine just sucked on his biscotti, waiting while she paused. "And I love him. For a long time I thought he was just – that he was just a trophy, but he's not. He's dumb," she let out a small laugh, "so, so stupid sometimes, but he has a big heart. He took me back when he shouldn't have, he's good to me, he can be the sweetest guy in the world." She blinked rapidly and drank more coffee. "I love him. I hate myself for using him, but I did it and I still do it. I deserve him cheating on me, even if it is with Rachel Berry."

Blaine forced himself not to flinch, not to wince. "You don't. No one deserves to be treated like that."

Quinn laughed at that, but the sound was unsettled in the air; it left a black tinge that made Blaine's bones itch. "You really don't know anything about me, Blaine."

"So tell me."

"Why should I?"

"Because you want to." He reached over and took her hand. "That's why you came today and it's why you're going to come next week, and the week after that, and the week after that."

Quinn turned her palm over, grasping at his fingers and squeezing. "Why do you make it sound so easy?"

"Because you deserve at least one thing in your life which is."

* * *

><p>Quinn didn't tell him anything that day. Blaine had known she wouldn't, so he was content to wait. They talked about other things; gossip at McKinley, Quinn's Yale dreams, show choir. They skirted and deflected, held tight to their walls for just a little bit longer, just one more week at least, but it was temporary and they knew that.<p>

When he got home, Blaine checked his phone for the first time since he'd left that morning, finding a couple of missed calls and numerous texts. He knew their origin before he even read them.

**From: Kurt (10:23 am)**

**Ready to talk yet?**

**From: Kurt (11:15 am)**

**I never meant to hurt you, you know that**

**From: Kurt (2:32 pm)**

**This isn't easy for me either. I hope you know that. I've lost a person I love.**

**From: Kurt (5:04 pm)**

**You can't still be in Warblers practice. If you need more time, please just tell me**

**From: Kurt (5:30 pm)**

**Please don't break up with me via text.**

**From: Kurt (5:31 pm)**

**That sounded flippant. It sort of was, but also please don't.**

**From: Kurt (6:12 pm)**

**Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay.**

**From: Kurt (7:14 pm)**

**Please tell me you're alright and just don't want to talk to me because I'm kind of freaking out here.**

Blaine checked his watch. Just after seven thirty.

**To: Kurt (7:33 pm)**

**Didn't check my phone all day. Had coffee with a friend after practice. I'm not going to break up with you. I love you, I just need to sort out my head first. I'm turning my phone off now.**

* * *

><p>It was just after three in the morning when Blaine realised what he was doing. He sat up with a gasp, body aching from lack of sleep, eyes prickling from staring at ceiling for so long. He immediately felt sick, grasping for his water glass and lifting it to his lips, only find it empty. With heavy limbs he dragged himself out of bed with a few stumbling steps. He gripped the banister hard on the way down.<p>

Once in the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water, drank it down, and poured another. After standing there, sipping at it, he went into the fridge.

He curled up on the couch with his mug of warm milk, sprinkled with cinnamon, and clenched his toes into the cushions to warm them up again. He let the liquid heat him up on the inside, felt the heat slipping down into his stomach. His eyes were itching and his head felt too heavy, but sleep wouldn't take him; his brain was powering too hard, reliving and imagining and self-flagellating.

He was being selfish, he realised that now. Kurt had hurt him by connecting to someone else and not telling him. He had also given Blaine an odd flip in his stomach with the realisation that anyone could take Blaine's place, any person Kurt touched could be someone he loved and neither Blaine nor Kurt had any control over that. That knowledge, that helplessness, scared Blaine more than almost anything else. He could lose Kurt through no fault or even will of their own. He wanted to believe the romantic part (the predominant part) of his brain that told him Kurt could fall in love, but it wouldn't be as deep and wouldn't replace their connection, but his logical and self-doubting sides were beating that hope back. The possibilities were too much for him to think about without his chest aching, but he couldn't seem to stop.

He wasn't so much angry with Kurt as he was scared. He was afraid of what it was that led Kurt to that point in the first place, the point of literally throwing himself into heartbreak. He was scared for Kurt, Kurt who had never experienced direct prejudice in his life, and was now being slurred at by a person his heart so desperately wanted him to love. He was scared for them; for what it meant that Kurt had kept it to himself. He was scared of how many things he had kept from Kurt, how many things he was still keeping: the man who wanted to buy him, Sadie Hawkins, his parents; Quinn. He hated the idea that he was hiding things from Kurt, even though some of them felt necessary. Quinn was something other in Blaine's life, something he didn't truly understand yet, and he wasn't sure how to explain it to Kurt at all.

Mostly, at that moment, as he curled up on himself with a swiftly cooling mug of milk, he hated how blind he was being to the needs of the boy he loved. Kurt had said it himself: he had lost someone. He was heartbroken, dealing with adversity he had never felt before, lonely or hurt enough to put himself in that position, and Blaine had abandoned him. He had removed himself from the equation to sort out his own thoughts, but hadn't given any consideration to how much Kurt needed him. Kurt wasn't reliant, he knew that – Kurt had been taking care of himself for years; but everyone needs a person to lean on in their low points and Blaine wasn't giving Kurt that opportunity. He had been selfish and self-absorbed, wallowing in his own importance and leaving Kurt to scramble through a mess of emotions that would be difficult for the strongest of people.

Blaine had felt guilty many times throughout his life. A great deal of that guilt he had come to realise was unfounded, as what had occurred was no fault of his own. All the same, the sensation of twisting fingers in his gut was familiar, strong. He set his empty cup on the table and curled his arms around his knees, pressing his face into them.

He didn't know how long he stayed like that, twisting in his own thoughts with nothing but the creaks of his house to keep him company. When he lifted his head, dawn was bleeding across the sky, wisp by wisp. He rested his chin on his knees and watched the world's ceiling paint itself in the spectrum from mauve to orange to coral.

He heard footsteps on the stairs some time after, but he didn't move from his spot. The feet, his father's, moved through to the kitchen and there was the sound of coffee brewing. There was more shuffling, back up the stairs in search of something, down again. The steps paused in the hallway, then his father was standing in the doorway, looking at him curled up, Blaine's tired skin illuminated by the morning light. Blaine turned his head, offered him a bland smile. His father nodded and left again.

More coffee sounds. The clink of cups, a hiss, liquid on ceramic. Footsteps.

A cup and plate were set on the table in front of him. Coffee, black, steaming. A croissant, cold. Blaine reached for the hot drink without even thinking. He blinked up at his father over the rim, blowing on the dark liquid. "Thanks."

His father shrugged and settled in on the chair opposite him. "You don't look like you've slept."

"Couldn't."

"Any reason?"

"Does it matter?"

Robert Anderson sighed and took a bite of his toast. "Polo season starts soon. You should start riding more often. You've fallen back a little."

Blaine balanced his croissant plate on his knee, biting into it. He simply nodded in reply.

"Teenage boys don't lose a night's sleep over nothing, Blaine."

"Dad—"

"No, listen. I know we don't… talk as much as we used to." Blaine held back a snort, which his father seemed to notice. "I can't make excuses for that."

"I'm sure Mom could give you plenty of reasons why I'm going off the rails and disconnecting from my parents."

"I don't doubt that she could." He pulled the belt of his robe a little tighter. "Doesn't mean I agree with any of them." He took another bite of toast, watching Blaine frown at him. "I know things in this house aren't as they should be. Everything's going backwards and maybe we can't stop it completely, but I'm going to try. We're starting with why you're not sleeping." He pointed his toast-toting hand at Blaine. "It's not nothing."

There was silence for a minute as Blaine drank his coffee, watching his father for any indication that this was some kind of joke. When he got none, he took a last fortifying bite of croissant and laid the plate on the table, chewing around his words and trying to best think how to say them. "I have a boyfriend." He stared at his dad, waiting. Robert seemed to have a moment of pause and Blaine felt it; he watched it, wondering whether they were going to stop their regression, or whether they were swinging right back to square one.

"What's his name?" was what eventually came.

"Kurt." Blaine blurted it out, shocked that this was happening so easily.

"Have you been dating long?"

"A couple of months."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Well, like you said." Blaine looked at his knees. "We don't exactly talk."

He heard his father's sigh and the creak of his chair before he was settling in beside Blaine. "So what about Kurt is keeping you up all night?"

Blaine tilted his head, staring at him. He didn't understand how this was happening, how they were actually progressing after so much pause and rewind. "I'm being stupid." His father just nodded, so he continued, taking a sip of coffee and letting himself talk. "Well, we've both done things. Kurt… Kurt has a lot to deal with, constantly, and I worry about what that does to him but there's nothing I can do to change it. At least, not yet. And he… he kept something from me, something important, because he knew it would upset me. I reacted… probably exactly how he expected me to react."

"And now?" Robert prompted.

"Now I feel awful. And I probably look like crap."

Robert chuckled. "Not going to argue with you there." He sat back in the cushions, leaving Blaine to stare into his cup for a few moments. "What are you going to do now?"

"I was going to go and speak to him."

"Was this going to involve missing school?"

"Dad," Blaine said with a laugh, reaching back to hit him lightly. "This is important."

"School's important."

"Stop," Blaine laughed, "okay, I know." He looked back at his dad, smile still on his face, and felt the normality of the moment build up on him. They were talking about his boyfriend like it was any other day; like they hadn't been stuck in a stilted form of communication for far too long.

"I'm sorry," Robert said, catching onto his thoughts.

"I know, Dad."

They stayed there for a moment, watching each other, feeling out the new water. "So," Robert said, hauling himself up off the couch, "you going to rush off before school and pray he's awake?"

"I don't think he'll have slept, either."

Robert gathered their cups and plates together, straightening up with a clink. "Blaine, I… I'm not going to tell your mother about this. About Kurt. I think you should do that."

Blaine nodded. "I don't think she wants to hear it."

Robert sighed, shook his head, and retreated to the kitchen. Blaine tugged himself up, mind still reeling, and dragged his feet up the stairs. He threw on his uniform, grateful for its predictable parts, and stumbled back down just as his father came out of the kitchen. Robert patted him on the shoulder, squeezing gently, then retreated upstairs. Blaine slipped out into the morning light, shoulders hunched against the cold, and headed for his car.

He was going to make this right.

* * *

><p>A decidedly awake Kurt answered his phone call, and the door was opened a few moments later. Kurt just stared at him, teetering on the balls of his feet. Blaine sighed and tugged him into his arms, shuffling them back into the hall to close the door against the freezing morning air. Kurt clung to him and Blaine didn't stop him, hugging back just as fiercely. Even just a couple of days without Kurt made him miss the contact and he couldn't bear to pull himself away.<p>

They ended up at the kitchen table with coffee. Blaine hadn't expected anything else. The sturdy wood of the Hummels' table felt like an amalgam of his and Kurt's entire relationship – right from the start, with so many important moments woven into the woodwork. He wondered where they would be without it.

"Do you want to go first or shall I?" Kurt asked, blinking at Blaine over the table (their table). Blaine could tell he hadn't slept, but he didn't suppose he looked much different.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here for you," Blaine said, taking over. He slid his hand across the table to tangle his fingers with Kurt's. "I wasn't angry, I want you to know that. I'm scared."

"Of what?"

"Everything. What's happening to you, what's happening to us, all the things that could go wrong."

"Nothing's happening to us, Blaine."

"It is, can't you see that?" Blaine clutched at Kurt's fingers, eyes flitting across lines in the wood tabletop, years of age, hours of their moments. "We keep things from each other."

"I didn't understand my own feelings enough to tell you at first, you know I'm sorry about that."

"It's not just you. I didn't tell you about that guy for far too long, or about not being ready for the things we were doing. I – Tuesdays. On Tuesdays, I have coffee with Quinn Fabray. It started last week, I met her by accident. I didn't know who she was. We talk."

Kurt stared at him. Slowly, his fingers slipped from Blaine's. "You have coffee with Quinn Fabray. Quinn Fabray, my stepbrother's girlfriend, who knows… knows about me."

"She doesn't know that we're dating. She has no idea that I know who she is."

"So you're lying to her, too."

Blaine bit his lip. "Kurt." He flicked the backs of his nails against the side of his cup. "Would you rather I told her who I was? She can talk to me because she doesn't think I can judge her for it. She thinks I'm outside of it all." He paused, letting out a heavy breath. "She told her dad, you know. He worked with the guy."

"You mean the… the one who wanted…"

"You. Yes."

"And you still sit down and have coffee with her."

Blaine groaned, pressing his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. "I don't know how it happened and I don't know why I do it. I can't explain Quinn, I just can't. We help each other."

Blaine heard Kurt shifting on the other side of the table, then arms were wrapping around him from behind and a nose was pressed against his neck. Kurt seemed to breathe him in for few moments before speaking. "If you want to spend time with her, I'm not going to say anything against it. Just be careful, okay?"

Blaine hummed in agreement, lifting his arms to wrap around the back of Kurt's neck. He twisted his head quickly to capture his lips. "God, I hate not seeing you. I hate not being able to touch you."

"How did we ever survive with just gloves?"

"Well, I didn't know how addictive kissing you was then."

Kurt laughed, pressing their lips together again. He straightened up, moving to sit on the table, legs hanging either side of Blaine's, linking their hands together.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked, blinking up at him. "Really?"

Kurt shrugged. "I'm getting there. It just… it just _hurts_ sometimes."

"Why did you do it?"

Kurt looked down at Blaine's large, earnest eyes, staring up at him full of worry and exhaustion. He stroked his fingers through Blaine's hair, sighing gently. "I felt pathetic. I know that I have people who love me, but at the end of the day, you can all leave this house with freedom. Even Rachel isn't chained to her house the way I am. She told me how it feels and I just wanted something to stop me feeling so useless and – god, Blaine, I'm _boring_. What have I done? Everyone has stories that make up their life, things to tell people and experiences to draw from. I feel like I'm missing out on everything."

Blaine leaned his head into Kurt's hand. "I want to tell you there's no need to feel that way, but." He sighed. "I never quite got how lonely it is. My house is lonely enough most of the time and I don't have to be there all the time." He frowned. "Although I had a conversation with my dad this morning." Kurt stroked behind Blaine's ear, raising his eyebrows as a request for more information. "I told him about you."

"Everything?"

"No, no," Blaine said, wrapping his fingers around Kurt's forearm. "No, I wouldn't do that. Just… just that I was dating a boy named Kurt and I was being a total idiot."

Kurt's lips twitched. "How did he take it?"

"He… he accepted it. I don't really understand. It was so _normal_."

"Maybe he doesn't want things between you to be the way they are."

Blaine shook his head, stroking Kurt's arm. "Mom was always the one with the more… obvious problem with me. Dad just never really said anything about it. I think he's accepted it, but he knows that Mom hasn't. I just… I wish he could have been there sooner."

"He's your dad, Blaine. I'm pretty sure he wishes he had been, too."

Blaine nodded, smiling up at him. Kurt stroked through his hair, wanting to laugh at how obvious Blaine's hurried dressing was. His hair was completely free of gel, curls knotting around Kurt's fingers. Blaine caught him laughing and pouted at him. "I thought you liked it without the gel."

"Oh, I do, believe me," Kurt said, still grinning as he leaned down to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, sliding off the table and into Blaine's lap, parting his lips against Blaine's.

"Morning," came Burt's gruff voice from the doorway, and they jumped apart, Kurt banging his back against the table and letting out a yelp. Burt just watched them, eyebrows raised, as Kurt rubbed his back and Blaine tried with all his might to stop blushing. "Little early for Blaine to be here, isn't it?"

"He couldn't sleep," Kurt said. "Well, neither of us could. We were – we needed to talk."

"It couldn't wait?"

"No," Blaine said, standing up. "I'm sorry, Burt, I would have asked, but I thought you were probably asleep." He glanced at the kitchen clock. "I can just leave for school now, I'm so sorry to interrupt your morning."

"Sit down, kid," Blaine said, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. "Grab some breakfast before you go. We haven't seen you in a couple of days, Carole will want to smother you some before you get out of here. Just keep your hands to yourself," he said, chuckling. He patted a mortified Blaine on the shoulder and headed for the fridge.

Blaine looked to Kurt, who was still blushing. Kurt shrugged and followed his father, already reprimanding him for the bacon he knew he was reaching for.

* * *

><p>Blaine picked Rachel up from school that afternoon. She'd stayed late to use the auditorium and Finn had picked her up that morning, so she didn't have a car. Blaine wondered whether Quinn knew about these morning drives Rachel and Finn were taking more and more of. Blaine knew for a fact that Finn wasn't treating on Quinn, because he physically couldn't be when he and Rachel hadn't connected. Emotional infidelity, though, of that he wasn't so sure. Blaine was starting to realise how stretched he was now – he had his loyalty to Rachel to feel happy for her, but he also had his anger on Quinn's behalf. He was letting most of his confusion out through internal rants towards Finn and his complete brainlessness.<p>

Rachel wasn't waiting outside when he pulled up, so he hopped out, wondering whether he could catch her in the auditorium. He entered the school, looking around at the locker banks and considering which way to turn. The sound of voices echoed around the corner and he shrank back a little. Football teams had a very specific kind of voice to them: male posturing and ribbing that carried over other sounds in a crowded hallway, across pitches, and throughout parking lots at night while the music of a school dance hummed in the background. Sure enough, a sea of red and cream came crashing around the corner, shouting and shoving. Blaine tried to sink back into the lockers without being too overt.

"Blaine!"

Blaine flinched and gasped at the hand on his shoulder, whirling to find a confused Finn staring down at him.

"Hey, dude. You okay? You here for Rachel?"

"I." Blaine forced himself to breathe. Letterman jacket or not, it was just Finn; gangly, harmless Finn. "Yeah."

"Hey, Karofsky," one of the guys yelled back down the hall, the call aimed at a figure lagging far behind the group, "you coming or what?"

The guy looked up and his eyes slid across Blaine standing at the other end of the hallway. He looked him up and down, frowning, and Blaine just stared back, feeling something fiery awake in his gut. His jaw set hard and he didn't notice Finn talking in his ear. They stared at each other, Karofsky's gaze hardening when he realised Blaine was glaring. He jogged to catch up with the guys, but not without bumping his shoulder into Blaine, making him stagger.

"What you staring at, homo?" he hissed before joining the group piling out of the doors.

Blaine stared after him, hands shaking. He jumped violently when Finn put a hand on his arm.

"Dude, you're shaking. Sorry about Karofsky, he's a real dick sometimes."

Blaine snorted, shoulders still drawn up tight. He was about to walk off and search for the auditorium again, leaving Finn far behind, when Rachel came around the corner.

"Blaine," she said as she spotted him, a huge grin spreading across her face. She started to scurrying towards him, then caught sight of who was standing beside him. Immediately, her smile grew to an almost manic level. "Hi, Finn."

"Hey, Rachel."

Blaine huffed, knowing that his presence was lost on both of them now. "Shall I let Finn drive you?"

Rachel nodded, not really looking like she'd heard him. Finn asked her something about the auditorium and they were gone, Blaine knew it. He sighed, extricating himself from between them and heading for the parking lot. He could hear them following behind, could almost catch the sound of Rachel's overly interested gaze being directed at Finn. He climbed into his car and watched them wander off together, oblivious.

He started his car, fully prepared to seethe all the way to Kurt's house. The radio lit up, commercials blaring out of the speakers. After a moment, Burt's campaign commercial started up. Blaine grinned, turning the volume up to listen to it. It was just the start, but Blaine knew there would be more. Blaine had only heard a few of Burt's plans from Kurt, but he had a feeling he would be hearing a lot about Burt Hummel over the next few weeks.

His optimism was quickly dashed, however, when the hourly news update announced further support for the bill; another senator had given his two cents. Blaine slammed the radio off, slumping back in the driving seat.

One step forwards, two steps back.


	30. Jump In the Pool

_Author's Note: I have a word count problem. It's growing. Hopefully this is a good thing? I don't know. There's a lot of driving in this chapter. And sitting. A lot of sitting. Actually, most of this story seems to involve people sitting. Why do people sit so much? On a scheduling note, firstly I apologise for the delay; my internet went down so I basically lost a limb for a while. Secondly, I'm entering a period of exams which are extremely important, so if chapters get sporadic it's because I'm focusing on my future. Yay. *finishes housewife sweeping* Go forth and read, mes petites chouflettes._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 28 - Jump In The Pool<em>

The past few days had been full of one thing: a great deal of cuddling. Blaine seemed determined to repay every minute of their silence with an hour of being wrapped around each other, breathing in sync and occasionally murmuring to each other. Kurt would have called him boring, but he didn't want it to stop.

They were curled up on the sofa, legs stretching out to the other side, Blaine's head resting on Kurt's chest with his body between Kurt's legs. Everything felt warm and slightly fuzzy and Kurt had closed his eyes a while ago. They snapped open at Blaine irritated huff and his jostling movement as he reached for the remote. Kurt looked up at the TV, sighing when he saw what was on the screen.

Three senators were giving the bill their vote.

"Why can't they just write the damn thing up already? I'm sick of all this back and forth, I just want them to turn it around, send it on its way, and then we can go back to being happy."

"Don't wish for that," Kurt murmured, stroking Blaine's back to soothe him. Blaine flopped back onto his chest, leaving the news report on. "We don't know what the result will be."

"I'm only willing to think about one result. They are _not_ putting it through."

Kurt's heart ached, but he kept silent. He knew Blaine was trying to remain optimistic, but with each piece of news Kurt's hope of keeping his rights was diminishing. He looked away from the screen, over to the pile of campaign posters sitting on the coffee table. Burt had tried many different designs, all of which were pretty terrible, before Kurt told him he was taking over. He was proud of the result: eye-catching, but not gaudy, and (he thought) with just the right level of 'sensible senator material'. Blaine had taken one home to stick on his wall, making Kurt laugh.

Burt's campaign was slowly picking up; ears were pricking and people were taking notice. He had risen up in the polls and people seemed generally positive towards him. Kurt was waiting for the other shoe to drop. (It felt more like a whole closet, if he was being honest.) Every time he picked up the paper, he expected his name to be splashed across it: Kurt Hummel, Burt Hummel's gay faerie son.

"…you should join a book group or something."

Kurt blinked, realising Blaine had been speaking. "Book group? What are you talking about?"

Blaine tilted his head back, catching Kurt's eye with a smirk. "You weren't listening, were you?"

"I may have tuned out."

Blaine smiled, kissing Kurt's chest. "I was being serious, actually."

"How novel."

"Shut up. I was thinking about what you said the other day, about being lonely. I hate going to school and thinking of you being stuck here all day."

"So you suggested a book group."

"Okay, okay, it was a terrible idea," Blaine whined, pressing his face into Kurt's chest. "I'm _trying_."

"I should just enrol at McKinley or something."

Blaine looked up at him. He blinked up at the ceiling, then back down at Kurt, appearing to be deep in thought.

"Blaine, it's not going to happen. I'd need to exist first."

Blaine shifted again, settling back down against his chest. "How does it feel to know you're not actually registered as existing?"

"I am."

"What?"

"I am registered."

Blaine pushed himself up off Kurt's chest. Kurt wanted to whine and draw him back down into their cocoon of warmth, but Blaine was staring down at him, frowning. "But how do people not know about you?"

Kurt shifted around, moving them so they were sitting side by side. "When they figured out I was a faerie, my parents moved to a different area. They fell out of touch with all of their old friends, and everyone they met here thought they didn't have any children. It's kind of a miracle no one ever heard me cry, or saw me running in the garden or anything." He shrugged. "Thank god for trees, I guess."

"So you're on record?"

Kurt nodded. "The school district has me down as homeschooled. I have this doctor – my parents researched it for ages, and they found a guy who would apparently keep quiet about any of his patients being faeries. He's out of the regular hospital system, in a private practice a couple of towns over. I still don't go often, but I have that."

Blaine stared blankly at Burt's campaign posters. "So you're a person to the government, but no one in Lima actually knows you exist."

"Something like that."

Blaine frowned, shaking his head. "But… what about when you turn eighteen? What's going to happen?"

"By the time I'm eighteen, either the world will be a better place and I will be living somewhere else, or I won't have any rights anyway. Either way, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"I just can't believe someone can fly under the radar the way you have."

"I guess I should cherish it while I still can," Kurt said, pushing himself off the couch. "It's only so long before a journalist digs me out. Then," Kurt threw his arms, a painful joke on the freedom he couldn't have, "well, I can join all the schools I like."

* * *

><p>The light edging around the walls of McKinley would start to fade soon; the sky was dipping into a sleepy grey, readying itself to darken. Kurt was prepared to wait, to try a little bit harder this time, but he was still unsure as to how his plan was going to work out. He knew Blaine was far from pleased about his decision to pursue David again – <em>prejudice is just ignorance<em> only went so far. Blaine had seen David for himself and Kurt knew how uncomfortable it had made him; his shoulders had still been drawn up towards his ears when he had entered the Hummel-Hudson household that afternoon.

Blaine had all but begged him not to try again. The way his hands were shaking, Kurt knew it wasn't just about Kurt's heart getting broken. It was Karofsky; his Letterman jacket, everything he represented. He was only just starting to understand it, because he couldn't quite reconcile the Blaine he knew with the person Blaine had been, beaten and broken. The Blaine he knew seemed to have picked himself up, brushed himself off and moved on, with only a few scars to hold him back. Blaine was stronger than Kurt could ever imagine himself being.

The doors burst open with the rumble of feet and male voices. Kurt stopped himself from straightening up, maintaining his relaxed lounge into the bricks. Finn and a guy with a Mohawk (was that Puck? Puck had a Mohawk, right?) were near the front, tossing a football between the two of them. Kurt kept scanning, waiting until Finn noticed him, and found him. He was at the back of the group, hands shoved into the pockets of his Letterman, shoulders bunched up. There was an unexpected flip of fear in Kurt's stomach – he hadn't noticed before just how _large_ he was. He had nearly knocked Kurt off his feet with just a brush, but an active shove would definitely leave him sprawling.

"Kurt!" Finn jogged over to him, football tucked under one arm. "Hey. You keep turning up, dude. I should just bring you to school with me." He laughed, nudging Kurt's arm slightly.

The guy with the Mohawk appeared at Finn's shoulder, frowning down at Kurt as he continued to lean against the wall. Kurt blinked up at him, not really seeing him; the corner of his vision was still trained on Karofsky, huddled in a group with some of the other guys just outside of the doors.

"Puck," Finn said, and Kurt gave himself a mental pat on the back. "This is my…" Finn faltered, mouth open, and Kurt shot him a glare. "My buddy, Kurt."

"You go to that fancy gay school?" Puck said, looking Kurt up and down. Kurt crossed his arms over his chest.

"What?"

"Nah, Kurt's homeschooled."

Puck snorted, rolling his eyes at Finn. "How do you find these guys? Puckzilla," he said to Kurt, holding a fist out in expectation of a bump. Kurt stared at it, throat drying out. He almost lifted a hand to return the gesture, but he wasn't throwing another piece of his heart away.

"Nice to meet you," he said, looking away from Puck and leaving him hanging, glancing back over to the group. They were breaking up now, some of the guys drifting off to their cars. Karofsky was still there, talking to a few people, bumping fists and shoulders with them. Kurt glanced back at Finn, then reached for the ball under his arm. "Give me that."

"What? Oh, um."

"Finn, give me the ball."

Finn handed it over, watching Kurt's hands warily, as though afraid he was going to puncture it with his fingernails. Kurt ignored him, instead watching Karofsky peel off from the group and start to walk in their direction. Kurt sidestepped Finn, lining himself up to toss the ball exactly over Finn's shoulder. It bounced to the ground, exactly where Kurt wanted it: right in front of Karofsky's feet. As it started to roll away, he stepped forwards.

"Hey, can you grab that for me?" he called out, heading over.

Karofsky bent down and retrieved the ball, only realising who had spoken when he straightened up to hold it out. His mouth dropped open a little, but Kurt just grinned at him, taking the ball from his hands.

"Thanks," he said with a brief clap of his hand to Karofsky's arm, the way he'd seen his dad do to Finn.

"Kurt?"

Kurt turned his head, grinning back at Finn. "Sorry, lost control of my throw."

"Looked pretty in control to me," Puck muttered.

Kurt turned back to Karofsky, smiling widely. He'd forgotten how good it felt to be in the presence of someone you'd only just started to love. Colours got a little bit brighter and the weather felt warmer. He held out a hand. "I'm Kurt, Finn's friend."

David frowned at him, but he shook Kurt's hand. "Dave Karofksy. I've seen you before."

Kurt stumbled towards him a little, dropping his hand. He whipped back to glare at Finn, who had knocked him, but found his brother staring at him with shock and something that looked like fear painted across his features. "Finn?"

Finn blinked a couple of times, then grabbed Kurt's arm, dragging him behind him as he tossed a brief explanation over his shoulder. "Kurt and I have to go. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

Kurt struggled against Finn's hold all the way to the car, but he wasn't released. He flopped into the passenger seat with a huff, crossing his arms as he waited for Finn to climb in the other side.

"What is your problem?" he snapped.

"My… _My_ problem? Kurt, you just connected to some random guy on my football team!"

Kurt's mouth paused around his fully prepared angry tirade. His stomach seemed to be sinking in on itself. He dropped his head. "I forgot."

"You forgot you're a _faerie_? Kurt, I'm pretty dumb, but I don't think even I'd forget that."

"No." Kurt held in a snort of laughter, letting his head loll back on his neck. "No, Finn, I forgot that you didn't know. I'm sorry I worried you like that."

"I don't really get what you're saying."

"I was already connected to him." Kurt sighed, lifting his head and turning his gaze fully onto Finn. "A couple of weeks ago, I was feeling lonely and pathetic, and I let it get to me. I decided that pulling a Rachel would be the ideal cure, so I touched a random guy I didn't know."

"And that's Dave?"

Kurt nodded.

"Does Blaine know?"

"Yes. He was upset that I did that to myself, but he's okay."

"He's… he's just accepted it?"

"I." Kurt frowned. "I'm not following."

"He's cool with you being in love with another guy?"

Kurt's mouth stretched into a little 'oh' of amused surprise. "Finn, no, I feel about Dave the way I feel about you. I mean, I love you more now, but it's just friendship."

"Oh," Finn said. A grin started across his face and Kurt's heart clenched with love for his brother when he realised that it was relieved. "Right. So you're trying to, what? Be his friend?"

"Trying, yes."

Finn turned to put the key in the ignition, revving the car to life. He was oddly silent for a while; Kurt watched him, curious as to what Finn was mulling over so intently. "Just – just look after yourself, okay? Karofsky's cool sometimes, but I think he's pretty homophobic, and I always kind of think he would beat me up if he felt like it. So be careful, yeah?"

Kurt reached a hand over the console, squeezing at Finn's forearm, letting his hand linger there. "I'll try. Thank you."

Finn patted his hand only slightly awkwardly. Kurt drew it back into his lap, leaning into the window and staring out. There was silence for a few minutes, only the sound of Finn's hands sliding across the wheel and his feet on the pedals slipping out into the car. Kurt watched the buildings. They looked a little more familiar now.

"Does Burt know?"

Kurt kept watching the buildings. Houses, houses, houses, a couple of shops. How had he never seen these shops before? One of them had looked like a haberdashery and Kurt was going to have to check their Sunday opening hours.

"Kurt, you've got to tell him. I will if you don't."

Kurt's head snapped towards him. "I don't see how it's anything to do with you."

"You're my brother," Finn replied, glancing away from the road for a moment. "Of course it's to do with me."

Kurt settled back into his seat, crossing his arms. "I'll tell him when I'm ready to tell him. He's really busy right now with the campaign and everything."

"He's never too busy for you. You know that, right? Burt is, like, the best dad there is. He'd drop everything for you."

"I know," Kurt said, voice soft. "I know that. Please. Just let me do this on my own."

* * *

><p>Kurt looked around the restaurant, at all of the other patrons dining in the dimmed evening lights. There were couples all around them, some of them gazing at each other over their plates of pasta, others avoiding eye contact as they crunched violently on breadsticks. He looked back to Blaine, who was holding his hand on the tabletop, head resting on one hand as he gazed at him, a soft smile on his face. They were just another couple on a date, and Kurt had no idea why they never did this before. He could never have been scared of this.<p>

"Thank you," Kurt said, giving Blaine's fingers a squeeze.

"What for?"

"For taking me on my first ever date," Kurt said with a grin. The waitress brought over their food and Kurt shifted out of the range of her arms. Blaine watched him push himself into the corner of the booth as though it was natural.

"I want to take you on a date," Blaine had said shortly after he had finished giving Kurt a kiss hello a few days before. "A real date, in a restaurant, with candles and hand holding and making out in my car afterwards."

"Blaine," Kurt had said, glancing behind him with a laugh. "Shout it to the world, why don't you?"

"I will. I'll yell from the rooftops that I want to take my boyfriend on a date. So, Kurt Hummel, will you accompany me to Breadstix on Friday night?"

Kurt had grinned, looking down at where Blaine's arms were still around his waist and trying not to blush too much. "I would love to."

And so here they were, slotting themselves into normality and wondering at how well they fit. Kurt had taken Blaine's hand and Blaine had wanted to flinch at the public blatancy of it, but he had refrained. Kurt had never been made aware of how dangerous that could be and Blaine didn't want to enlighten him; not when Kurt was looking around the restaurant like he'd never seen a place more wondrous and stroking his thumb across the back of Blaine's hand.

"Finn told me they're not legally allowed to stop giving you breadsticks," Kurt said, picking up one of the sticks and waving it around. Blaine took one of his own, biting into it and choking a little.

"I think they should be – these are terrible."

Kurt giggled, biting into his own breadstick and wrinkling his nose. He held it out to Blaine, who tried to back away, but relented after a moment and bit into it. Kurt smiled at the little trail of stale crumbs it left on his cheek and reached across to brush it off, fingertips lingering on Blaine's jaw as their eyes locked. He moved to cup Blaine's cheek, but Blaine's hand came up around his wrist, pulling it sharply away. Their hands broke contact, Blaine's slipping away and leaving Kurt's resting on the table.

"Sorry," Blaine murmured, looking down at the tabletop. "I don't want to ruin this. It's just that it's not safe for us, Kurt."

"What are you talking about?" Kurt tried to reach for his hand again, but Blaine slipped it off the table and into his lap.

"We can't be affectionate in public. This is Ohio. People here are… are small minded with not enough impulse control."

"Not all of them," Kurt said. "I'm not."

Blaine tilted his lips up. "You know I didn't mean that."

Kurt sighed, reaching over the table to tug on Blaine's arm, pulling his hand up and out of his lap. He threaded their fingers together, setting their joined hands definitively on the tabletop. "I don't care. Let them look, Blaine. We can't go through life being afraid of doing something that might make people angry when it's perfectly right. If you don't show everyone that it's normal, how are you supposed to change anything?"

Blaine flexed his fingers against the back of Kurt's hand, shaking his head infinitesimally and grinning. "You," he said, looking up into Kurt's eyes again, "are the most amazing person I have ever met."

"Mr Anderson," Kurt said in a hushed voice, leaning over the table a little. "How very forward of you. This is the only the first date, after all."

Their waitress came to take their order. She glanced at their hands, but didn't make any comment. Kurt stroked his thumb over Blaine's, grinning at him.

After a while, Blaine got used to the feeling of Kurt holding his hand. His heartbeat settled down and he managed to eat with one hand. It felt normal, comfortable, and he barely noticed it by the time their dessert arrived. Kurt opened his mouth, smiling, and Blaine fed him a spoonful of cheesecake, smiling.

The door to the restaurant opened again and at first Blaine didn't notice. It was only with the flash of red that he looked up. A group of McKinley jocks were standing by the door, glancing around and waiting for a waitress to make them up a table. Blaine snatched his hand back into his lap, ducking his head.

"Blaine?" Kurt reached out for him again, but Blaine shrank back into the seat. He saw Kurt twist, looking back at the door. "Oh."

"Can we go?"

"Blaine, they don't know us. They're just guys."

"Please, Kurt."

Kurt laid his spoon down beside his half-eaten cheesecake with a sigh. He called a waitress over, paying before Blaine could try to protest, and within a few minutes they were out in the dark again, pulling open the doors to Blaine's car.

"I'm sorry," Blaine murmured once they were seated.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Kurt reached over and took his hand. "What happened to you was not your fault, not at all. You felt uncomfortable and I understand that. I wish you didn't have to feel like that, but I don't think any less of you for it."

Blaine just gazed at him for a moment. "I love you so much."

Kurt lifted their joined hands, kissing the back of Blaine's. "I love you, too. Now," he turned to face the windshield, "take me somewhere."

* * *

><p>Kurt tucked his head under Blaine's chin, feeling sated and bit too warm in the muggy car. Blaine had cracked a window down to get some oxygen back in and was stroking a hand across Kurt's back, looking out at the town lights in the distance. They were on the outskirts of Lima, somewhere they both would have thought of as skeezy if they weren't so desperate to be together. Something had been different about Blaine this time. They'd taken their time, watched each other's faces rather than their own hands. Blaine had held him tight, like he was a handful of water, pooled and tipping and slipping through the gaps. Kurt clung back just as fiercely; he wasn't leaving, he wasn't fragile.<p>

"Don't fall asleep on me," Blaine's voice hummed above him, the vibrations buzzing in his throat against Kurt's forehead. The sound pulled Kurt back from the brink and he yawned widely. "Kurt," Blaine said with a chuckle. "You're hopeless."

Kurt whined and nuzzled his face against Blaine's neck. "Mean," he mumbled.

"Come on," Blaine said. "We can't sleep here."

"Want to."

"No." Blaine slapped his ass hard, making Kurt jump and blink his eyes open. "Much better."

Kurt pushed himself up on Blaine's chest, frowning down at him. "That's your method?"

"Didn't you like it?"

Kurt blushed, looking away and rolling his eyes. He slid his hands down Blaine's chest and heaved himself off him, tumbling awkwardly back into the passenger seat. "Should have let me sleep," he groaned, dropping his head against the window.

"And driven home with you in my lap? Bet your dad would have loved that." Blaine started the car, reversing them out of their hidden spot and taking the small road that started their journey back into town. Kurt yawned, jaw cracking, and Blaine reached a hand over to him. There was silence for a while as Blaine drove and Kurt tried not to let the hum of the vehicle lull him to sleep. His mind was turning things over, bridging the gap between conscious and subconscious and mulling over thoughts he'd tried to avoid for the evening.

"I met Dave," he murmured without realising.

Blaine's fingers squeezed tight around his. "What?"

Kurt blinked, trying to come back to himself. He turned his head towards Blaine, finding him frowning at the road. "Shit." His mouth was slowly starting to correct to his brain again. "Yeah. At McKinley."

"Were you picking Finn up?"

Blaine was giving him an out and Kurt was so tempted to take it. To say yes and leave it that, pass it off as a brief chance encounter. But he couldn't lie to Blaine that way. Not again. "No. I mean, I did. But I went to see him."

Blaine let out a breath. "Okay. Did you talk to him?"

"I threw a football at him."

Blaine blinked, eyes flicking to him briefly. "Are you serious?"

"So he'd pick it up for me. We didn't talk exactly, but there was communication."

"And he wasn't a dick?"

"Blaine, stop it."

"Kurt, last time you approached him he threw a homophobic slur at you. Forgive me for not being very sympathetic towards him."

Kurt sighed, squeezing Blaine's hand. "No, he wasn't a dick. He didn't get a chance to say anything, but he didn't shove me or anything, so."

"Victory," Blaine muttered.

"Don't be like that. It doesn't suit you."

Blaine went silent for a minute, concentrating on turning onto a larger road, merging lanes. "I just don't want him to hurt you."

"I know that. But I'm not a baby bird, Blaine. I've been handling my own heart for a long time now. If he hurts me, he hurts me, but if I have a chance to teach him and help him grow? I'm not going to walk away from that. If I get a chance to make him the friend he feels like to me, I'll take the pain I go through to get there."

"Your dad's right about your martyr complex."

Kurt's lips twitched. "Isn't that part of why you love me?"

"Mr Hummel," Blaine gasped. "You are expressing love so soon? But we are only at the beginning of our courtship. A first date is _surely_ too soon."

Kurt let his grin free this time. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Mr Hummel, this is scandalous!"

"And you're easy, Mr _Tighter, Kurt, tighter, faster, oh_—" Kurt broke off with a laughing scream as Blaine thwacked him.

"Be careful or I'll throw you out."

"I'm quaking in my achingly stylish boots." Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand again, winding their fingers together. He kissed the inside of Blaine's wrist. "Are you angry with me?"

"Angry?" Blaine said, glancing at him again. "You're your own person, Kurt, I can't tell you what you should and should not do. I'm grateful that you told me and I respect why you went to see him, so why would I be angry?"

Kurt shrugged. "Sorry. It's just something Finn said."

"Finn Hudson's wisdom strikes again."

"He has his moments."

"That he does."

* * *

><p>Finn Hudson did have his moments. They could be few and far between, but they happened. Lately, though, those stunning periods of clarity felt untouchable. He felt like he was drifting, head thrown into tailspin by all of the conflicting ideas around him.<p>

Girls.

Girls were a big problem. Quinn was great – she was always great, and they were even better on the second try, now that they could actually have sex. She'd been a bit uncomfortable at first and was still insane about protection, but Finn got that. Having done the thinking-he-was-a-dad thing once already, he was not going back there. So Quinn was amazing, and she was still hot (like, crazy hot). But she was always so driven. She was making plans for prom and their ("their") plans to win their rightful crowns. Or something. Prom was still weeks away, so Finn didn't really understand why Quinn was thinking so far ahead. He was pretty sure it was going to turn her crazy. Then lately, she'd started holding tight to his arm in the hallways, sitting right next to him at lunch; turning up outside all of his classrooms. He was starting to feel like she was collaring him. Or peeing on him to mark her territory. Or did only guy dogs do that?

Then there was Rachel. Where Quinn was a steam roller, Rachel was a hurricane. She was all bright smiles and longwinded speeches about stars and her voice and someone named Barbra. Finn wasn't sure what was going on half the time. But he enjoyed it. Rachel could be sweet, wearing thin gloves inside just so she could touch Finn's arm or hand him a plate of vegan cookies she'd baked. (Finn might have thrown those away. Maybe.) They'd spend Tuesday afternoons together, talking and just letting time go by. Finn came to love Tuesdays; the days when Quinn had some commitment she couldn't miss – Finn was assuming it was a church meeting, but he didn't dig. The only problem was Kurt always rattling around, shoving them apart and reprimanding them and shoving himself between them.

"Why isn't Blaine here?" he'd asked one Tuesday, sick of Kurt forcedly separating them. Finn wasn't stupid. He wouldn't connect to Rachel without thinking about it first. He was grateful to Kurt for worrying about them, but sometimes he needed to know when to stop.

Kurt had given him a look he really didn't understand, some strange mix of amused, pitying and irritated. "Blaine happens to have extracurriculars to keep up."

Finn had huffed, but he'd left it at that.

The day Rachel had approached him at school had been the day it all started going truly downhill. She had appeared beside his locker, smiling at chatting and handing him another plate of cookies, cut out in star shapes and iced bright pink. Finn had been shocked at first, because Rachel didn't speak to people in school. She just didn't. Finn didn't even see her in the halls, so for her to be standing beside him and talking like it was normal… well, it wasn't surprising they were getting some strange looks.

It had been kind of amazing, oddly enough. Finn enjoyed talking to Rachel and there was something about her choosing – risking to come and speak to him specifically that made him want to smile. She'd squeezed his arm and he had tried not to jump, before realising that he was wearing his Letterman jacket, arms covered to the wrist. Rachel had stayed pressed tight to the lockers, sliding hurriedly out of the way of anyone who went to open a locker near her. It had its moments of reminder, moments of abnormality, but he had been enjoying their exchange until Quinn appeared.

Finn hadn't been able to tell what she was thinking. She had that smile on her face, the one that was dead behind the eyes, and she had gripped his arm so hard her nails dug into the skin. Her voice, asking him to walk her to class, had been that dangerous silk that Finn had come to fear. As she lead him away, arm linked tightly into his, he had known he had done something terribly, terribly wrong.

* * *

><p>"She has the <em>audacity<em> to speak to him in school, right in front of me. I've seen her, she doesn't speak to anyone, and all of a sudden she's up and chatting to my boyfriend? She gave him cookies, Blaine. Like a girl scout."

"They were just talking, Quinn. It sounds pretty harmless." Blaine knew it wasn't harmless. He wanted to yell and rant with her, tell her that even if Finn didn't realise it, he was forming an emotional connection with Rachel. He refrained.

"It doesn't have to be physical to be cheating."

Blaine nodded. "It's worse when it isn't."

"Exactly," Quinn said, taking a bite of the cookie she'd begrudgingly let Blaine buy for her. He'd insisted that she needed it. _Smarties make everything better, Quinn, you know it's true_. "It's like our whole relationship isn't enough for him. Maybe we don't talk the way he wants us to, or he doesn't feel like he loves me enough, or maybe his connection with her is just _better_." Blaine tried not to wince at the word choice. "It's just that Finn's the kind of guy who'll fall in love with a girl without even realising it. And where does that leave me?"

"Talking to me?" Blaine smiled, trying to cheer her up. She just huffed.

"I'm sorry," she said, waving off Blaine's _don't be_. She rested her chin on her hand. "I feel like I just unload everything on you and expect you to deal with it. You must think I'm awful."

"You need to say these things to someone or you'd probably explode. I think the fact that you can't say them to Finn is part of the problem. I can tell my boyfriend the things that are upsetting me. That's why I don't have to tell them to you."

"Once again, Blaine has a perfect relationship."

"It's not perfect. It's just functioning?"

"And mine isn't?"

"Does it sound like it to you?" Blaine shook his head, stealing one of the Smarties that had fallen off the cookie. "If you can't talk to Finn about what's bothering you, you need to seriously rethink what you're doing."

Quinn nodded. "I can't break up with him."

"I wasn't telling you to."

"I know." Quinn smiled. "You'd never tell me what to do." She reached over and took Blaine's hand. "What am I supposed to say to him?"

"Whatever you need to. Although you might want to tone it down a little. If you let it all out the way you do to me, I don't think he's going to be able to take it. You have the tendency to be the tiniest bit scary."

Quinn raised her eyebrows at him. "Just the tiniest bit?"

"Maybe a large chunk."

"Glad to know I can get to you, Blaine."

"What are friends for?"

* * *

><p>Kurt had started picking Finn up every time he had practice. Finn would hitch a ride with Puck in the morning, and Burt had cleaned up an old car from the shop for Kurt to have as his own. Going to the shop every time was becoming a problem of safety; he could only dodge the other employees for so long.<p>

Kurt would slide into a space in the McKinley High parking lot a few minutes early, sitting in the car until a minute before the footballers' usual exit time. He would be waiting in the same place when they came through the doors, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his face schooled into an impassive expression. Finn would come over to him, bringing Puck with him. Puck had learned early on not to try any bro fists or shoulder shoves with Kurt. It became an unspoken rule between them.

Finn always let them linger quite close to the other guys. For a while, Kurt didn't try to make direct contact with Dave again. He was just present, making himself something expected, something normal. Only after a week did he actively make contact again.

They were walking to their cars, many of them heading in the same direction. Dave stopped beside his own, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. Kurt paused, looking the car over, then back at Dave, who was watching him.

"That's a really nice car you've got there."

"Great," Karofsky muttered, retrieving his keys at last, "now I know my car gets the fairy boy stamp of approval."

"What did you say?" Kurt took a step back, heart beating up into his throat. How had he been able to tell?

"Kurt," Finn said, grabbing his arm and pulling away. Kurt followed, hand coming to grip tightly at Finn's forearm.

"How does he know? Finn, what did I do? What do I do? How did he guess?"

"He didn't mean that," Finn said, opening Kurt's door for him as he was too jittery to work the handle. He pushed Kurt slightly, making him get inside. Kurt barely registered that he wasn't in the driving seat.

"What else could he possibly mean?" Kurt hissed as soon as Finn was in the car.

"Kurt, 'fairy' is an insult for gay people."

Kurt sat back in his seat. "Oh." Finn nodded, turning out onto the road. "So he doesn't… he doesn't know what I am. But he still hates me."

"Don't let it get to you," Finn said. "Karofsky doesn't know what he's saying."

"No, I think he does." Kurt shook his head, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He could see himself standing on an endless stretch of land, a long road winding from beneath his feet off into the distance. It was hot and dusty, and his feet were bare. Kurt tried to see a turn or a fork near the horizon, but there was none. He sighed, blinking his eyes open to the smell of newly upholstered leather and the quiet whir of a healthy engine.

He had a long way to walk.


	31. Howlin' For You

_Author's Note: To celebrate my exams finally (_finally_) being over, I present to you guys a shining new chapter! I think (hope) you're all going to have something to say after this one..._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 29 - Howlin' For You<em>

School had always been incongruously lonely for Rachel. She could see hundreds of people in one day and love not a single one, and it sometimes struck her as odd. She got it, why Kurt felt so disconnected from the rest of the world. They always were, because they were different. They weren't 'normal', and it changed everything.

That was one of the reasons she was so shocked when Mercedes Jones started talking to her. She was gathering her books from her locker, elbows tight to her side and hair hanging to cover her cheeks (you could never be too careful), when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Mercedes was there, not looking exactly thrilled to be there, more resigned.

"So we're both friends with Kurt."

Rachel nodded. She had known this for a long time, and it had been a shock to realise that a girl she shared a building with five days a week was a faerie rights supporter, a friend. She had hoped, deep down, that something might come of it, but nothing had. Until now, apparently.

"You've done some bad things for him, Berry, but he loves you. As his best friend, it's my job to get over myself and try to figure out why he does."

"Well, you know why," Rachel replied, finding it hard to look Mercedes in the eye – she was more than a little intimidating.

"Yeah, I know the science of it." Mercedes huffed and beckoned Rachel to her. She didn't grab her arm like most people would; Rachel noted it, and silently thanked her for it. Full length sleeves didn't stop you from the shock. "Come with me." Rachel scurried after her, not sure of their destination until Mercedes shut the door behind them and flicked on the light.

"Why did you bring me to the choir room?"

"It's the safest place I know." Mercedes pulled two chairs to face each other and sat in one of them. After a moment's hesitation, Rachel took the seat opposite her. "Look, I get that you guys fall in love and it's not exactly your choice. Believe me, I know. But I've been around Kurt's family for a long time. His dad has always thought about connections a certain way, and Kurt's starting to believe it, too."

"What's that?"

"That every connection happens for a reason. Or at least, every _type_ of connection does. You only fall in love with the people you're meant to, you have the strongest connections with the people who are going to be most important to you. I know you've got some thing about touching people, but I guess you'll know what I'm talking about. Some are stronger than others, right?" Rachel nodded slowly. "And your ones with Kurt and Blaine?"

"They're stronger than most. All, actually."

"And they found you again, didn't they?"

"So you think it's fate?"

"Call it what you want. But Kurt doesn't love you because he doesn't have a choice. He _chose_ to love you, to love you more than his body told him to. He wanted you to be his friend, he wanted to care about you. The connection started it, but he kept it up by himself. So that's what I care about: what makes him think you're worth it."

Rachel looked down at her hands, slotting her fingers together and twisting them a little. "What if you don't find what you're looking for?"

"I will. I trust Kurt, I trust Kurt's judgement. He loves you for a reason, and if he does, I'm sure I'll be able to learn."

"But why would you want to? You don't have to be my friend just because Kurt is."

"I'm not just doing it for that." Mercedes sighed. "Rachel, look at me." Rachel lifted her eyes to find Mercedes' warm gaze staring back at her, a smile in her eyes. "I want you to know that you have someone here you can talk to. I've been through school not having anyone, and I was lucky enough to find friends in glee who made me feel like I wasn't alone. I don't want you to feel like I did, and I know how hard it is. I've seen Kurt struggle for so long, you know? I'm surprised he hasn't gone crazy in that house." She shifted in her chair. "It's not a pity thing, okay? It's not because I want to do good and look after the lonely faerie girl. I just want you to have someone."

Rachel hugged her arms around herself, giving Mercedes a shaky smile. "Thank you."

"Do you want to hug me?"

Rachel blinked. "Would you – would you be okay with that? You know that I—"

"Kurt connected with me by accident and I'm still here for him. Never leaving."

Rachel stared at her, trying to imagine having a girl like this in her life. The prospect wasn't scary, not at all; she'd never actually had a close girl friend, not since she was young. "Okay." She stood up and Mercedes followed her. "I'm going to hug you now," she said with a grin.

Mercedes opened her arms to her and Rachel stepped into them. Their cheeks brushed together and Mercedes held Rachel tight while her whole body shook, her heart realigning itself and everything fizzing and brightening for a minute. When it settled, Rachel found herself in Mercedes' arms, her heart warm and feeling too big for her chest. "You're an amazing friend, Mercedes."

Mercedes stroked a hand up her back, laughing by her ear. "Guess we'll have to wait and see."

* * *

><p>"Warbler Blaine, you're late."<p>

"I know, Wes, I'm sorry," Blaine said, breathlessly dropping into a seat in the commons. He'd hit unexpected traffic on the early morning drive from Kurt's house, and it would have been fine if the council hadn't scheduled a before school practice to prepare for their latest performance: the best old persons' home in Western Ohio, apparently. (Everything got very slow after Regionals. Both New Directions and the Warblers losing to the other team had been a shock, but the Warblers were nothing if not good losers. They picked themselves up, brushed themselves off, and started the rounds of every old, grumpy person in Ohio.)

"It really isn't acceptable, Warbler Blaine."

"It won't happen again."

Wes gave a nod and returned to the discussion, giving Blaine the chance to sink back into his seat. Blaine loved the Warblers dearly, but he wasn't sure that this was going to be their best audience. They could perform other places, any other place, any place that didn't smell like potpourri and disinfectant and cats.

Blaine tried to stay focused throughout the meeting, and he managed to hit all his marks right and not forget any of the words, so he wasn't actually doing anything _wrong_. His heart wasn't in it, though, and he thought it probably showed. But he was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and the upcoming performance wasn't exactly going to be the highlight of his singing career.

"Blaine." Wes called him over as all the other boys left the room, heading for the first class of the day. Blaine picked up his bag and headed over to his friend.

"I'm sorry, Wes, I know I was off today."

"You weren't bad," Wes said, leading them out into the hallway. "You just weren't your best."

"I know, I've just got a lot of things to think about."

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Blaine raised an eyebrow at him, and Wes continued. "You're a good friend of mine, Blaine. We've all been a little worried about you lately. You seem – unfocused, like your head's somewhere else."

"I'm sorry—"

"I'm not just talking about practice, Blaine. I don't really care about that." Blaine gave him a look. "Okay, I care a lot, but I meant that I'm worried about you the rest of the time. What's going on with you?"

Blaine wished he could tell Wes everything. Wes was a good listener – it was part of the reason he was on the council. He heard without judgement and he gave good advice. Blaine just wished this was something he had the right to tell. "I'm okay, Wes."

"Is it a boy thing?"

"What?" Blaine laughed. "Are you asking me about boy troubles, Wes?"

"Well, you've worn that pin every day for a while now, and you've been distracted and lost in your own head, so I have to wonder."

Blaine's hand came up on instinct to trace a finger around Kurt's circle pin. "I just like this pin."

"I think your blush tells me you're lying."

Blaine shoved Wes playfully, laughing with him. "Leave me alone."

"Is it that Kurt guy?"

"What?" Blaine knew he'd asked too quickly by the look Wes was giving him.

"It is, isn't it?" Wes grinned. "I knew it, the first time you said his name. It was like he was sunshine or something."

"We weren't even dating then," Blaine protested without thinking. He clamped his mouth shut as soon as he realised what he'd said, earning a laugh from Wes.

"Oh, the Warblers are going to love this."

"Wes, no, please don't tell them."

"No, no, this is perfect. People have been making bets."

"About what?"

"What you're thinking about. Most of the guys have put money on a guy, so you've just made a _lot_ of people happy."

Blaine groaned. "I should just quit the Warblers now. Never show my face again."

"Come on, Blaine, it's not that bad. I'm happy for you."

"Sure, sure."

"No, look." Wes took his arm, stopping him. "I know I'm teasing you about it, but if you're happy, I'm glad for you."

"I am happy."

"So, was he the reason you were late this morning?"

Blaine turned from him. "I'm going to class."

"That's a yes!" Wes called after him. Blaine waved his hand, trying to dismiss him, but with his back turned, he was grinning.

* * *

><p>School with Mercedes was decidedly brighter.<p>

Rachel ate lunch in the cafeteria for the first time since the very first day of high school. At first she and Mercedes sat at a table by themselves, with the table of glee kids shooting them confused glances. After a few days, a girl Mercedes introduced as Tina joined them, giving Rachel a tentative smile. Mercedes had promised her quietly that none of the glee kids knew what Rachel was and that Mercedes wouldn't let anyone connect with her unless she wanted them to.

Tina was sweet; quiet at first, but once they got over the initial awkwardness, could talk just as much as Rachel and Mercedes. Lunch swiftly became Rachel's favourite part of the day. Tina's boyfriend Mike joined them a few days later, and Rachel huddled close to Mercedes to keep the distance between them all safe enough for her to relax. None of the other glee kids joined them, but she was content with that. She and Tina swiftly became friends, and she'd learned to enjoy Mike's random bouts of dancing in his seat and the almost sickening perfection of his relationship with Tina. She'd catch Mercedes watching her sometimes, smiling in that way that made her feel proud, something she couldn't quite explain.

She started braving the hallways after a while, with Mercedes by her side. They kept close to each other and on the edge of the crowd, and it was both terrifying and thrilling for Rachel. She was much safer than she thought she would be – people didn't come too close to her, not often, and she could avoid contact with relative ease. Just walking where everyone else walked, not taking empty hallways and long routes, made her feel less isolated.

She saw things, sometimes, things she would have missed out on before.

"We need to talk about this now, Finn, we're running out of time."

"But prom's weeks away." Finn shut his locker, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and frowned at Quinn. "I don't know why you keep acting like this."

"It's two weeks away, actually. All the other candidates have put their posters up, but you won't even talk to me about it."

"Well, if they're so important, why don't you just do them?"

Quinn put her hands on her hips, expression pinched, but Rachel could see something in her eyes that looked far deeper. "I thought we could make them together, considering we're a _couple_, but if they're that unimportant to you, I suppose I'll just have to make them myself."

Finn nodded and gave her a small attempt at a smile. "Awesome. You know how to do these things better than me, anyway. Want me to walk you?"

Quinn glanced at the offer of his hand, but shook her head. "We're going opposite ways."

"I don't mind."

Quinn looked like she wanted to refuse, Rachel could see it, and although she didn't like to admit it, she could understand. Finn seemed completely uncaring about the whole idea of prom – Rachel was aware, they'd discussed it. For Quinn, Rachel was certain this was one of the most important points in her high school career. Rachel knew from experience how obtuse Finn could be.

He glanced up just before he took Quinn's hand, seeing Rachel paused across the hallway. He raised his hand in greeting, slipping it right from under Quinn's fingers as she was taking it. Rachel smiled in return, but her eyes flicked to Quinn's. She was looking at her with that vicious expression Rachel had been on the receiving end of a few times now, but it had never made her feel so guilty before.

"Rachel, what are you doing?"

She turned from them, to Mercedes. "Sorry, got distracted."

Mercedes looked over Rachel's shoulder, to where Quinn and Finn were heading down the hallway. "Can I ask about you and Finn?"

"There is no me and Finn," Rachel replied, starting them walking again. "He's dating Quinn."

"And they look happy as anything." Mercedes' voice was thick with sarcasm.

"They're still dating." Rachel wrapped an arm around herself, the hurt in Quinn's eyes replaying in her head. She'd always thought of Finn's relationship with Quinn as an abstract, something to be disposed with quickly and painlessly. Quinn had always seemed so brittle and fake that she wasn't human to Rachel, she wasn't a consideration at all. But they had been dating for two years, albeit with a break in the middle. Quinn had wanted Finn to be the father of her child, had wanted him to be tied to her forever. Rachel had never let herself realise the level of attachment indicated by that. For all she knew, Quinn was head over heels for Finn, and Rachel was taking him away.

Rachel linked her arm with Mercedes'. They were almost at the end of the hallway when a cold slap hit them across the face. They gasped, stumbling at the onslaught of slushie. Rachel stood, stunned, as the nameless Letterman jackets walked off, high fiving people as they went.

Rachel had never been slushied before. People didn't interact with her at all, and that extended to the facefuls of cold ice. Mercedes was sluicing it off her face beside her. She glanced at Rachel, seeing her frozen on the spot, dripping red slush.

"Here, make sure it doesn't get in your eyes." She wiped at Rachel's face, clearing some of it off.

Rachel glanced around the hallway, seeing all the people glancing at her as they passed. It was humiliating in the basest, cruellest way it could be. Her eyes trailed up the hall to where Finn's back was retreating. Quinn, beside him, had turned her head, watching. Their eyes met and Rachel had to blink back tears when Quinn smirked at her and turned back to Finn.

"Come on." Mercedes took her by the arm, leading her towards a bathroom. "I have spare clothes in my locker."

* * *

><p>"I did something awful today."<p>

Blaine looked up. Quinn had been silent since she'd sat down, and he'd decided to just wait it out, drinking his coffee and saying nothing. "What was it?"

"I… I told some guys to slushie her. Rachel."

"To what, sorry?"

"Slushie. The ice drinks they sell at our school, jocks throw them at people."

"They _what_?"

"I know." Quinn sighed, pushing her cup away from her. "It's horrible. It's so… so humiliating. And I told them to. I made them do it because my boyfriend waved at her. I'm… not a good person, Blaine."

"You are, Quinn. It was a bad thing to do, I won't deny that, but you're feeling remorse for it. Everyone goes wrong sometimes, but you've known it, every time you have. You've felt bad for it, and that's more than a lot of people can say."

"But I still do it. And why? Because my boyfriend likes her more than he likes me?"

Blaine sighed. "I really think you need to talk to Finn about this."

"What am I supposed to say? He already thinks I'm crazy. Don't look at me like that, he does. He thinks I'm his overbearing, crazy girlfriend who only thinks about herself. I mean, he's not wrong, is he?"

"Maybe you need to think about yourself, considering he doesn't seem to be."

"You don't know him, Blaine, you don't know how sweet he can be."

Blaine looked down at his cup. He hated lying to Quinn. She'd never brought it up like this before, making Blaine feel like he was deceiving her outright rather than simply omitting parts of the truth. She had so many people playing her already, he felt awful for adding to that number. He wanted to just let it out, but she was too volatile when she was injured. He didn't want to lose her entirely, and that was what would happen. He would tell her the truth and she'd feel betrayed, rightly so, and Blaine would never see her again. Maybe it was self-important of him, but he thought that Quinn needed him. He seemed to be her one outlet for all of this pain.

He took a sip of his coffee, guilt already rife in his gut.

"I know that he should notice how awful he's making you feel. He shouldn't be spending so much time with Rachel if he knows it's hurting you, or he should at least be making it clear to both you and her that it isn't more than friendship. It's unfair to you to watch him act this way with another girl."

"He won't make prom posters with me."

Blaine bit the 'I know' on his lips. Finn had complained about Quinn and her obsession with prom more times than Blaine cared to count. Every time, he grew more and more frustrated.

"It's like he doesn't care at all. Maybe prom isn't that important to him, but he knows how important it is to me. It's been all I've dreamed of for my entire childhood. I've been planning this since before I could _walk_. He could make an effort to pretend, at least."

Watching this happen to Quinn was painful for Blaine. He hated arriving at Kurt's every day to find Rachel there, curled up beside Finn and chattering away about things Blaine couldn't listen to (herself, mostly), and knowing that they were hurting Quinn more by the second. He loved Rachel, and that was perhaps one of the worst parts of it. He wanted to shake sense into her and make her see that what she was doing was harmful. She was selfish, he had learnt that quickly, but had learned to overlook it because beneath that she had a good heart and she was kind to those she loved. He had known that about her, but he'd have thought someone else's boyfriend was too far.

"I'm sorry, we only ever talk about me. What's happening with you?" Quinn pushed the last piece of biscotti towards him and Blaine snapped it in half, offering one to her.

"I told my dad that I have a boyfriend and he was surprisingly okay with it. He apologised, actually, for not – not really being a father to me since I came out."

Quinn grinned, an honest smile like Blaine didn't get to see often. It lit up her whole countenance. "That's amazing."

"Yeah." Blaine let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah, it is. I've just gone so long thinking I'd never be able to really talk to my parents again. Maybe I never will, with my mom, but I think… my dad and me, I think we're on the way, and that feels so good."

"I know what you mean. When my mom was there for me, when she came back and held my hand while I had Beth… it was the best feeling in the world. I'm so happy you can have that."

Blaine smiled at her across the table. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe they would both be okay, in the end.

* * *

><p>Blaine was fully prepared to drag Rachel away from Finn and make her see reason. He had planned out all the points he was going to make on the drive to Kurt's house. His plans were thrown to the wind, however, when he entered Kurt's living room to find it full of people. Finn was on one couch, chatting with Mercedes and Rachel, who were on the other.<p>

"Try not to be too shocked," Kurt murmured.

Blaine shot him a confused glance, but at that moment Rachel caught sight of him and gave a happy little yelp, jumping out of her seat. She reached back a hand to Mercedes, dragging her with her, and Blaine grabbed at Kurt's wrist.

"Are they…?"

"I know, it's crazy."

Rachel threw her arms around Blaine's neck, giving him a tight squeeze, before passing him off to Mercedes. Blaine hugged her, brain still whirring in circles. "What's going on?"

"We're talking about prom," Mercedes said.

"No, I meant." He gestured between them.

"Oh. We're friends," Rachel said, pulling Mercedes into a sideways hug. "It's actually… it's nice having someone at school who knows."

Finn let out and indignant 'hey' from the couch. They ignored him.

"Wow." Blaine blinked a couple of times. "That's great, guys."

"I didn't pressure her into connecting, Blaine, if that's what you're worried about." Mercedes gave him a little nudge.

"No, no, sorry, it's just been a long day."

"Don't know why you came here then," Kurt muttered. "It's like a crazy house. I swear, if they say one more thing about sequinned prom dresses."

Blaine chuckled, slipping an arm around Kurt's waist and drawing him towards the couch. They squeezed in beside Finn, leaving Rachel and Mercedes on the other one, already talking loudly about the benefits of matching boutonnieres.

"Finn's been nominated for Prom King," Kurt told Blaine, barely keeping the laugh out of his voice. Finn wasn't watching them, staring instead at Rachel as she talked. A hot, protective creature rose up in Blaine's chest.

"I know."

"What?" Kurt frowned at him. "Oh. _Oh_. Of course you do."

"He's not being very good to his Queen, let's put it that way." Blaine frowned when Finn and Rachel's gazes met and they shared smiles.

Kurt slid them around so all of their legs were drawn up onto the couch, Blaine's over Kurt's lap. "Think about happier things for a minute, okay?"

"I'm trying, I just keep getting _distracted_." Blaine huffed in Finn's direction.

Kurt rolled his eyes and pressed a swift kiss to Blaine's lips. "I like having you over for breakfast. We should make it a thing."

Blaine shifted his focus at last, staring into Kurt's eyes. "That's romantic, but you have no idea how much time I'd lose from my schedule. I'd have to stop doing my hair and I don't think that's a good idea."

Kurt's eyes flicked up to Blaine's gelled curls. "I don't think I'd complain."

Blaine shook his head, but he let Kurt kiss him. They got a little lost in it, only breaking apart when Mercedes heckled them. Kurt scowled at her, but Blaine kissed it away.

He would get sucked into watching Finn and Rachel sometimes, anger bubbling hotter and hotter, and it was all he could not to reach over and give Finn a physical piece of his mind. Kurt always drew him back, stroking a hand up his thigh or nuzzling his cheek or murmuring in his ear. He didn't get it, not quite, because he hadn't seen the other side the way Blaine had, but they couldn't stop them from being in the same house and he knew that. Kurt just wished there was a way to keep everyone happy.

"They like each other," Blaine whispered after a while. Kurt didn't reply, just watching him. "They'd… work, I guess. In a weird, annoying sort of way. I've never seen Quinn with him, I don't know what it's like. It doesn't sound easy though, and this is…" He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his cheek against Kurt's. "What if they're better for each other?"

"Then they're better for each other. But they shouldn't try to figure that out until Finn's available."

Blaine nodded, sighing. "Why do they all have to do this? Why do they have to make it so complicated?"

"They're human."

And that was the problem. They were all different kinds of human – different variations; jock and gleek and nerd; faerie and non-faerie. They were all shapes, sizes, colours, mindsets, but they all erred just the same, and there was no force in the world that could stop them.

* * *

><p>Rachel paused at the end of the mostly empty hallway, clutching her books to her chest. She watched Quinn change things out of her locker, noting the stiffness in her back that wasn't just from Sue Sylvester's Tirade Against Bad Posture. Her ponytail was high on her head today, higher than normal.<p>

Rachel sighed and forced herself to move before the courage went completely. She kept her eyes on the floor and her pace quick as she approached her. When she stopped beside Quinn, she was thrown a glance which swiftly turned into a sneer of disgust before the green eyes were focusing on the locker again. Quinn said nothing, but Rachel had been expecting that. Queens only spoke to the lowly when being entreated to.

"Quinn, I know you're angry." She paused, but she needed to say it. She stood a little straighter. "I'm sorry about what's happening to you and if I could change things, I would. Finn is my friend, nothing more. I wanted you to know that."

Quinn closed her locker, hand resting on the outside. "What does it matter?" Her voice was soft and Rachel hadn't known she was capable of sounding so fragile. She had thought she was all ice. "It's not going to change anything, in the end. I can't keep Finn with me, the way I couldn't keep Puck, or my dad, or Beth. I couldn't hold on to any of them." She laughed, but the humour was black. She leaned back against the banks of metal. "And you just walk in, all yourself, and take what you don't ask for. I've actively tried to make your life hard, but things keep seeming so easy for you."

"That's not true, Quinn. I have plenty of things I have to fight for and many of them are bigger than me." She ducked her head, trying to catch Quinn's eye and wondering why she felt so sorry for this girl who had everything. Rachel thought she was starting to realise that that wasn't true – Quinn was just as terrified as the rest of the world. "You don't need them, not any of them. You don't need someone else to make you yourself."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Quinn looked up at her and Rachel was shocked to see the tears in her eyes. "It's not like that for me," she said, voice thick. "I am my uniform and the guy I'm with. To this school, that's what defines me. You don't get that because you've never been where I am. People avoid you no matter what you do. The expectations are different."

"But why do you have to do what's expected? Why can't you be who you want?"

Quinn smiled, the curve twisting across her face into a grimace. "Because I don't want to be like you."

Rachel nodded, silent. They were suspended for a few moments, paused in the empty hallway with far more than silence pressed between them.

Quinn straightened up and adjusted her hair, pulling it even tighter. Rachel just watched her, knowing this was probably the first and last of this kind of moment for them. Quinn gave her a small smile that didn't meet her eyes. "Thank you."

"For what?"

Quinn just shrugged, already turning from her. Rachel shifted her books into one arm, ready to walk away. Suddenly, Quinn span back to her. She grabbed Rachel's wrist and spoke frantically, eyes piercing into her. "You do not breathe a word of this, Berry."

Rachel nodded, Quinn's hand a pulsing brand on her skin. Quinn pulled back, satisfied, and stalked off down the hallway.

Rachel's hand slammed against Quinn's locker as she tried to keep herself upright. She could feel her knees trying to fall out from under her, head spinning as molten emotion pulsed through her veins. She didn't understand it. She had felt this way before, she knew she had. The feeling was so familiar, but the intensity nearly brought her down. She gasped in lungfuls of air, staring at the empty hallway where Quinn had been.

Nothing made sense. The world must have stopped turning, or the universe was collapsing in on itself because Rachel just did not understand. She couldn't be in love with Quinn Fabray. She just couldn't.


	32. Bullet Proof I Wish I Was

_Author's Note: Well, isn't this speedy! Okay, so, many things to housekeep today. First of all, this story has but one chapter left after this one! I know, it's quite sudden, and you're probably wondering how I could ever resolve all of this in just two chapters. Well that, my dears, is why there is going to be a **sequel**! It's in the planning stages right now, and I'm going to finish writing it completely before I begin posting, so I can have a regular schedule. (Also, that's just what I do now.)_

_On an unrelated note, I wrote a Diamond Jubilee Klaine drabble on tumblr (here: cirisamorpheus . tumblr post / 24365498928 / klaine-diamond-jubilee-drabble), so take a look if you are so inclined! Otherwise, on with the chapter._

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 30 - Bullet Proof...I Wish I Was<em>

Kurt woke with the sound of his phone, head groggy and eyes like weights. He reached for the device, but was cut off by a cough deep in his chest. After a minute of coughing, he gasped a breath and fell back onto his pillows again. He hadn't felt like this in years and his body seemed to be in shock.

He groped for his phone again, squinting his eyes against the harsh backlight.

**From: Blaine (10:27 am)  
><strong>**I think I'm dying**

Kurt tapped out a reply, not sure whether it was English, and dropped the phone onto his chest. He coughed pitifully a couple of times.

**To: Blaine (10:30 am)  
><strong>**You too? Head brain hurt and chest has disease**

His phone buzzed a couple of times, but it took him a while to force his eyes open and pick it up. He propped it on his chest, blinking at it as his vision swam a little.

**From: Blaine (10:31 am)  
><strong>**You sound worse than me**

**From: Blaine (10:32 am)  
><strong>**Want me to come and ~take care of you~?**

**From: Blaine (10:36 am)  
><strong>**Kurt? Are you alive?**

Kurt huffed a tiny laugh, which sparked more coughing, and his back hit the pillows again, chest aching. There was a knock at his door and then Carole was poking her head in and casting a worried eye over him.

"Kurt? You don't sound too good."

Kurt shook his head, trying to wet his mouth enough to speak. He held out his phone to her. "Tell Blaine I'm…" He took a deep breath, chest clamped down upon by some horrible force. "I'm alive but can't… text."

Carole stroked his forehead when she took the phone from him, tapping out a quick reply to Blaine explaining the situation, and then setting it on the bedside table. "What's wrong, Kurt?"

Kurt gestured at his chest, then vaguely at his head, then made a sweeping motion with his hand across his whole torso. Carole laughed, taking his hand and squeezing it. "Okay. Do you think you need me to take you into the doctor?"

"Only…" Kurt squeezed his eyes shut. Why was everything such an _effort_? "Only mine. My doctor."

"Want your dad to do it?"

Kurt nodded, keeping his eyes closed. Carole stroked his forehead again, murmuring something Kurt didn't catch, and then she was gone again. He breathed deeply, trying to count the seconds each breath took to ignore that odd compression around his lungs. He had been sick only three times in his life. Each one had been violent, a hazy, dark memory from his early childhood.

Half an hour later he was being bundled into Burt's car, wrapped in clothes and a blanket, and he couldn't remember the trip down the stairs. He whimpered and leaned his head against the window. A hand reached over to slide something soft between his temple and the glass and he gave whoever it was a tiny smile, not opening his eyes. Soon after, the car started up around him, the sound whirring through his skull. He let the steady engine beat lull him and settled back into the warm huddle of clothes, falling into a sickly sleep.

The next time he woke, he was being carried in his father's arms. He opened his eyes to the vaguely familiar sight of his doctor's surgery. He'd been nine the last time he'd come here – the first visit Burt had had to make without his wife. It hadn't changed much, just a new paint job. Burt looked down at him when he felt him stir.

"How you doing, kid?"

Kurt sighed and pressed his face into his dad's jacket.

Burt smiled at him. "Yeah, I know. Always hits you hard. Come on, we're here now." Burt shifted Kurt to rap his knuckles low against the door, arm still supporting his son's back. The door opened to reveal a doctor on the other side, smiling at Burt.

"Come in, Mr Hummel. How's he doing?"

"Worse."

The doctor looked Kurt over, taking in his sweaty skin and flushed cheeks. "It's the blood."

"What?" Burt asked distractedly, gently placing Kurt in a chair, making sure he was upright and comfortable. Kurt kept a grip on Burt's arm, leaning on him.

"Kurt, can you let me hear your heart?"

Kurt nodded and the doctor's hand slid under his shirt. He gasped at the cold press of the stethoscope against his skin and Burt stroked a hand into his hair while the doctor instructed Kurt to take deep breaths.

"I've been doing research for while," the doctor said, drawing back. "Kurt, can you follow this with your eyes? With my other faerie patients," he continued while Kurt struggled to follow the moving object. "It's nothing concrete, obviously, because I can't send anything to the boards, but from my experience, faeries are more violently affected by illness than other humans would be. Nothing we can't work around, though."

"It was always really bad, back when he was younger. Elizabeth – she used to worry that he was going to die."

"But you didn't," the doctor said to Kurt. "Kurt?"

Kurt blinked up at him, a tiny cough working out of his throat.

"Hi," the doctor said with a reassuring smile.

Kurt gave him one in return. He'd always liked him, ever since he was tiny. There was something warm in his hazel eyes. "Hi, Dr Anderson."

* * *

><p>"Here, darling." A paper landed on Blaine's bed.<p>

"Thanks," Blaine rasped, rolling his head on the pillow to look at his mother.

"I brought you some soup, sweetheart. Sit up." His mother pushed his hair back, smiling down at him. Blaine worked himself into an upright position and she plumped up the pillows behind his back for him to lean on. She placed a tray table across his lap. "Your father would be here, but he's seeing an emergency patient."

Blaine nodded, then wished he hadn't. He swallowed a spoonful of soup, head too cloudy to think very much on how normal his mother was being. She was looking at him, actually _looking_, and not just passing her eyes over him. He guessed maternal instinct overruled in the case of sickness.

She sat on the side of his bed, stroking his knee through the covers and watching him eat. "How did you get this?"

"Not sure. School, I guess. My – a good friend of mine has it, too. He's worse, though."

"Wes?"

"No, you don't know him." Blaine looked down at his bowl, eating another spoonful.

"You should introduce us."

"Mom, please, I have a headache."

She nodded, rubbing his knee again. There was silence for a minute, only broken by the clink of Blaine's soup spoon against the bowl. "Is he your boyfriend?"

He inhaled his soup, making a loud slurping sound. When he'd had a chance to swallow, he blinked up at her. She was watching him with another one of those indecipherable expressions, the kind he had grown used to over the years. She gave nothing away. "What do you want me to say to that, Mom?"

"The truth would be nice."

He nodded, wincing when his head pounded. "Yes. He's my boyfriend." He set his spoon down in the bowl. "I love him."

"And he's the one you've been seeing after school." She didn't question, simply stated. "You could have told me that the first time I asked."

"I didn't…" He swirled his soup around with his spoon, finding it hard to look her in the eye. "I didn't think you'd want to hear it."

"Your father and I had a talk last week, Blaine." He made a questioning noise, still watching the movement of metal through liquid. "He thinks we haven't been much of a family lately. Not since… Not in a long time."

"Not since I told you I'm gay." He dropped the spoon to look at her.

"Yes."

"And did he change your opinion? Or do you still think I have some sort of disease?"

"Blaine, I never thought that."

"Oh, yeah, so it was just a _phase_."

"Blaine, stop it." She gripped his knee, silencing him. "Just… stop."

He slumped back into the pillows, watching her.

"I will admit that I had a hard time coming to terms with – with you. We raised you a good Catholic boy, Blaine. I never even thought about having to do this. I know that I should have supported you from the beginning, but you have to understand that it wasn't easy for me."

"But why didn't you tell me that? We could have worked through it. Why did you have to just… treat me like I'm not your son?"

"You were always my son to me. That never changed."

"But you wouldn't even look at me, Mom." His voice was choking up and he couldn't blame it on just the infection. He pulled the covers higher up his body. "It's like you couldn't even look me in the eye."

She shifted up the bed, stroking his hair back again. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. It was just so hard to understand. I thought we'd done something wrong, raised you badly."

"It's nothing to do with you, Mom, you've got to know that. It's not something that can be changed."

"No, no, I know that now." She cupped his cheek. "I know. Please try to understand that it wasn't something I could just accept."

Blaine nodded, slipping a hand over hers. "What about now?"

She smiled, tilted her head in the way Blaine knew he'd inherited, and stroked her thumb lightly across his cheekbone. "So you love him?"

"More than I really understand."

"Then I'm happy for you." She leaned forwards and brushed a kiss against his forehead. "Now eat your soup. I'll come and check on you later." She stood up, balancing his tray for him when the bed rocked with the movement. He took her hand before she could leave him.

"I love you, Mom." The words hadn't left his lips in well over a year. They were foreign, but it felt so good to be saying them again.

She grinned, leaning over to kiss his forehead again. "Love you, too."

Blaine watched her go with a lingering smile before turning back to his food. He picked up the paper to read as he ate, scanning the front page, and his spoon clattered back into his bowl, spraying little flecks of soup onto the blankets. He didn't notice.

* * *

><p>Kurt opened bleary eyes to his bedroom once more, unaware of how and when he had gotten there. Someone was pressing something to his lips and he opened them, sucking down the foul tasting liquid and wrinkling his nose.<p>

"I know, kiddo, but it'll make you feel better," Burt's voice said from somewhere above him. Kurt smiled and closed his eyes again, falling back into half-sleep. He could hear movement around him, the capping of a bottle and footsteps and soft voices.

He sank into darkness not soon after, and then the world exploded into psychedelic colour and twisted images. He was chained to the wall again and the air in front of him was twisting. He was naked, wrists chafed from his bonds, and a cool finger was running down his chest, nail catching on his skin. He looked up into a smirking face, teeth bright white in the underground darkness. He tipped forwards, spinning and spinning and landing feet-first in a field. At first glance it was empty, but when he looked again there was a figure curled up in the grass. He stepped closer and he would recognise those curls anywhere. Blaine was on his knees, body curled in on itself, and he was screaming. He didn't know how he hadn't heard it before. Aching, piercing sound ripping through the air and through Kurt's body and he closed his eyes, gasping and back arching and he was yelling, and then there were soft hands on his shoulders, pressing against his cheeks.

He blinked and Carole was there, shushing him and murmuring words of comfort. It didn't make sense, nothing made sense.

"Blaine," he said, trying to roll over. He needed to see him with his own eyes. "Blaine, he's hurting."

"Yes, honey, he's got what you have."

"No." Kurt shook his head and just kept shaking it. "No, he's – I need to see him."

"Just lie back, Kurt."

"Where is he?" he yelled, weak voice cracking on the words. "What have you done to him?"

"Nothing," she said, voice clear and smooth. "Lie back, Kurt. I'll call him for you."

"Please," he whispered, body giving in a falling back onto the pillows. "Please."

Carole kept a hand on his arm while she picked up the phone, searching through for Blaine's number. Kurt's head swam as he watched her press it to her ear.

"Blaine? Hi, it's Carole. No, he's – he's quite bad. He's had a nightmare, he just needs to speak to you." She held the phone out to him. Kurt tilted his chin up, one side of his face pressed into the pillow, and she laid it on his cheek.

"_Kurt? Are you okay?_"

"Oh, Blaine." He closed his eyes. "You're okay."

"_I've been better. What's wrong?_"

"It hurt," Kurt mumbled. "It hurt so much."

"_Okay_." Blaine's voice was soft down the phone and Kurt let it wash over him. "_I'm here. It's okay._"

"I want to see you."

"_I'm sick, Kurt, or I'd be there._"

"I'm sick, too." Kurt had gathered that much by now. There was a medicine bottle by the bed and everything in his body ached. "Please."

"_I… I'll be there soon, okay?_"

Kurt smiled, forgetting that Blaine couldn't see him. "Okay. Soon."

"_Soon._"

He thought Carole took the phone back then, but he wasn't sure. There was more talking, words he couldn't figure out, and then he was asleep again, dreamless this time.

He was roused by movement behind him, the bed jostling as someone climbed into it. A body curled around his, an arm sliding around his waist and a face pressing into the back of his neck. He took a deep breath, the smell of home washing over him.

"Hi."

"Hi," Blaine whispered before he turned his head away to cough loudly. Kurt could feel the fluctuations of Blaine's chest against his back as he coughed, his whole body shaking with it. When he turned back, he nuzzled his face into Kurt's neck. "Sorry."

"You're sick."

Blaine smiled against his skin. "So are you."

"Do you want some medicine?"

"Took some before I left."

It was Kurt's turn to cough then, leaning over the side of the bed and gasping for air between each round. Blaine rubbed at his back, speaking to him throughout, comforting him. Kurt fell back onto the pillows, taking a few fortifying breaths before rolling over to face Blaine, their noses bumping against each other.

"We're gross," Kurt giggled. Blaine grinned, closing his eyes.

"Just a bit."

"I still love you, even when you're disgusting."

"Same here." Blaine snuggled forwards, nudging his head under Kurt's chin and winding their hands together between them. "So, did you give it to me, or did I give it to you?"

"I'm blaming you. I don't have anyone to catch it from."

"We don't know, Mercedes could be in bed right now with a fever higher than yours."

"It's so your fault." Kurt kissed Blaine's hair. The medicine must have worked to some extent: he was aware of himself now and the world wasn't spinning every time he opened his eyes. "You came."

"You needed me." Blaine splayed his hand over Kurt's heart, where his breathing was more laboured than it should have been, burdened with sickness. "So I'm guessing you haven't seen the paper today."

"No," Kurt said, and his voice sounded thick, like he was close to sleep again. "Anything interesting?"

Blaine's fingers clutched around Kurt's pyjama shirt. He kissed Kurt's clavicle, listening to his breathing evening out, slowing down. "No. Nothing."

Kurt didn't reply, mind already back in the clutches of sleep. Blaine sighed, curling closer to his body, slipping a knee between Kurt's. He tried to fall asleep, but Kurt was twitching with his dreams, moaning softly. They were sounds of distress and Blaine kissed at his neck again, stroking his chest and trying to soothe him. He murmured to him, kissing up his skin to his ear and speaking soft words to him until he settled back down.

"You don't deserve this," Blaine whispered against Kurt's ear, knowing he was held in sleep. "You don't deserve any of it. No one does." He kissed Kurt's cheek, his chin, the side of his neck, finally returning his head to beneath Kurt's chin. He let their breathing match up and felt at last the call of darkness, letting it drag him under to rest beside Kurt.

* * *

><p>Blaine woke sweating and breathing fast, skin too tight and head too heavy. He was pressed against Kurt's chest, Kurt's skin beating heat into him. Kurt was moaning faintly, another dream plaguing him, Blaine could tell. He kissed him, soft presses of his lips against Kurt's over and over until he was breathing easy into Blaine's mouth and fluttering his eyes open.<p>

"You were dreaming again."

"I don't understand them," Kurt said after a minute, having blinked away the vestiges of sleep. He slid a hand between their bodies, pushing them a few centimetres apart to allow cool air into the gap. "They're so vivid, but they can't be real."

"Tell me about them."

Kurt rolled over and up, grabbing one of the glasses of water on the bedside table and passing it to Blaine before taking his own and sucking at the straw he assumed had been placed there by Carole. The frigid water was bracing; his head was brighter now, unencumbered by the thick sickness of that morning. He returned the glass to the table, but Blaine kept his, pressing it against his cheek, his forehead. Kurt curled up to him again, watching him with wide eyes, accentuated by dark circles.

"Remember when I was dreaming about Rachel?"

Blaine nodded, slotting the glass in between their bodies to hold it up and sucking on the straw. Kurt's eyes watched the movement in a daze before he dragged them from Blaine's lips to his eyes. "They're similar, some of them. I'm restrained. Everything feels sordid and like – like knives in my eyes." Blaine flinched, the straw slipping from his mouth, and Kurt kissed him. Blaine's lips were cool from the water, blissful against his own overheated skin. He drew back before he wanted to, but his jaw felt heavy and lethargic and he had to.

"What about when you called me? Was that what you were seeing?"

"No." Kurt closed his eyes against the thoughts, but the image of Blaine curled up in the grass was drawn up behind his eyelids and he snapped them open. "No."

"It's okay," Blaine soothed at Kurt's panicked tone. "I'm right here."

"You just… you were screaming, Blaine, and it's like I could feel it in my teeth. I couldn't get to you and you were in so much pain and I was just helpless." He blinked rapidly and a tear slipped from his eye, sliding sideways across the bridge of his nose and across his other cheek, into the pillow. Blaine tilted his head forwards and nudged their noses together.

"I'm okay. It was just a dream."

"I know, but I couldn't tell. I needed to see you before I could believe that you were okay."

"I know, I know." Blaine kissed him, and for the first time registered how many germs they must be sharing with each other. He couldn't bring himself to care.

"Did my dad really let you share my bed?"

"I may have pulled the sick eyes on him."

"You have those?" Kurt rasped as a giggle caught in his chest and he tried not to cough in Blaine's face. He turned his head to hack at the air and then pressed their foreheads together again.

"They're very effective." Blaine tried to reach for his straw with his mouth, only succeeding in pushing it away. He tried again, letting out a soft whine of frustration when the straw eluded him. Kurt smiled at him and pushed the straw between his open lips. Blaine blinked up at him in thanks as he drank and Kurt groaned and leaned his head back. "What?" Blaine asked.

"Don't do that."

"Drink?"

"Just – never mind."

"No, what's wrong?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and pushed the straw into his own mouth. He sucked on it, looking up at Blaine from under his lashes. Blaine's mouth dropped open.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Kurt said, lifting the glass from between them and rolling to place it definitively on the table. "So don't." He slid his body back against Blaine's and Blaine's hips canted against his involuntarily. "Blaine."

"Sorry." He shifted back, putting space between their bodies. "I know we're all gross and sick and probably shouldn't get too active, but you can't just do that and not expect anything."

"You did it to me, don't forget."

Blaine's hand slipped under Kurt's shirt and he gasped. Blaine's hand was rough against his sweaty skin, warm but not hot, and he arched into it. "Unfair," he whined.

Blaine kissed under his chin and slid his hand up to brush his fingertips over Kurt's nipple. Kurt rubbed his foot up the back of Blaine's calf, pressing his toes into the soft flesh of his knee back. Blaine bent his leg, letting it slide between Kurt's so his thigh was pressed up against Kurt's balls.

"_Blaine_." Kurt tried to pull back, but only succeeding in sliding himself across Blaine's thigh, making his eyes roll back. "God, I hate you."

"I bet I can make you feel better."

"Why can't you just use the soup method?"

Blaine paused, fingers stopping in their circles around Kurt's nipple. Kurt let out a hot breath across his face, trying to stop his body from pressing forwards for more and failing somewhat. Blaine remained still, prompting Kurt to open his eyes to see what was wrong. Blaine was smiling gently.

"Can I kill the mood a little?"

"Please."

"My mom brought me soup today." Kurt hummed in response, waiting for more. "I think both my parents finally accept me," Blaine let out, a wide grin stretching across his face. Kurt matched it at once, pressing a smiling kiss to Blaine's mouth.

"That's amazing."

Blaine's fingers pressed into the skin over Kurt's heart and he leaned into him, kissing him again. "It feels good."

"I'm so proud of you," Kurt murmured against his lips.

"What for?"

"For being strong, even when you didn't have people behind you."

"I'm not strong, Kurt."

"Don't lie." Kurt kissed him hard, pressing him back into the bed a little. "You know, I'm feeling surprisingly revived."

"I'm not feeling too shabby myself," Blaine quipped with a grin, darting up to kiss Kurt's mouth once, twice, five times.

"My family's here."

"We're sick."

"But they're still _here_."

"We'll be quiet."

"I seem to remember you having a serious problem with that."

"You're no better," Blaine said, pouting at him. Kurt's hand slid without warning into his pyjama pants, under his briefs to wrap around his half-hard cock and he moaned. Kurt quickly kissed him, swallowing the sound with a giggle.

"You're hopeless."

Blaine scowled at him, pinching his nipple in retaliation and earning a gasp. He dragged his hand down Kurt's chest, biting his lip at the rub of Kurt's thumb over his head. "You're so hot."

"That's the fever."

Blaine pressed his head into Kurt's neck and snorted. "What are we doing?"

Kurt pumped him faster and he pushed his hips up into Kurt's hand with a whimper. "Getting each other off in the most unsexy way possible."

Blaine hummed, kissed Kurt's neck, and reached under his clothes to grip him in his hand. They settled into a rhythm quickly, Blaine sliding his hand up as Kurt slipped his down, pressing their mouths together to keep from groaning aloud. Blaine didn't know whether it was the sickness messing with his head, but he was on the edge of orgasm far more quickly than normal.

"Kurt—"

"I know."

They kissed again, tongues sliding hot against each other as their hands fell out of rhythm, jerking roughly. Kurt flicked his wrist and slid his thumb in tantalising circles around the head of Blaine's cock until he was writhing against him and panting moans into Kurt's mouth. Blaine caught his thumb on Kurt's frenulum when he bucked against Kurt's hand and Kurt pressed his tongue under Blaine's to hide the moan burning up from his chest. It was a tumbling climb from then on, arms bumping as they stroked each other faster, drawing each other right up until Blaine was shaking against Kurt and spilling over his fist, Kurt following just seconds after.

A knock at the door made them break apart, breathing heavily with their hands still wrapped around each other's dicks. Kurt was about to move away when the door swung open and Finn came in, a tray rattling in his hands.

"Hey," he said, setting it on the bedside table. "Mom gave me some peppermint tea for you guys."

Blaine blinked up at Finn, wondering whether he was having a fever-induced hallucination.

"Are you wearing a crown?"

Apparently not, if Kurt was seeing it too.

"Oh, yeah." Finn took it off his head, giving it a strange smile. "Yeah, Quinn and I won Prom King and Queen."

Kurt shifted against him as he gave congratulations and Blaine hissed at the stroke of Kurt's hand up his sensitive cock. They both stilled, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"You guys look really sick."

"Thanks, Finn," Kurt said, rolling his eyes and hoping Finn didn't think anything more of the blush in their cheeks.

"You have fevers, right?"

"Among other things."

"That sucks, man." Finn pulled up a chair by the bedside, flopping into it, and Blaine tried not to whine out loud. They couldn't move their hands – it would be far too obvious from the sound and the shifting under the covers what they had been doing. The pressure against them when they were so sensitive was almost unbearable, though. "I don't know what's up with Quinn lately," Finn said.

Blaine had to work hard not to snap at him that he was really the problem. Kurt gave him a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat which Finn took as intended for him.

"Yeah, she's just gone kind of crazy. I don't think she likes Rachel very much."

Blaine laughed and had to quickly pass it off as a cough, pressing his face into Kurt's chest. The shift made Kurt gasp, but the sound moved into a yawn. Blaine lifted his head and wanted to sigh in relief – Kurt's post-orgasm exhaustion, delayed by the shock of Finn's entry, was catching up with him and his eyes were drooping. Blaine glanced back at Finn.

"Sorry, Finn, but Kurt's really not doing well. Can we talk more tomorrow?"

Finn looked over at his step-brother as though he'd forgotten he was there at all. "Oh, sure. You guys… drink the tea or whatever. Get better."

"Thanks, Finn," Blaine said, watching him leave. As soon as the door clicked shut he nudged Kurt's chest. He got a sleepy snuffle in response. Sighing, he very gently released Kurt's cock, drawing his hand out of Kurt's pyjamas.

"Kurt," he whispered, but he received no response. He closed his eyes, wishing this didn't have to happen, then reached into his own underwear to remove Kurt's hand. When Blaine pulled on Kurt's fingers, Kurt's hand tightened on instinct and Blaine let out a yelp of pain. Kurt's eyes blinked open and he gave Blaine a bleary look before his eyes widened and his hand slipped away.

"Sorry," he mumbled, the word getting drawn out as he immediately dropped back into sleep. Blaine let out a small laugh, taking a moment to lean his head into Kurt's chest and just accept the hilarity of what had just happened. Then he leaned over Kurt's prone body, reaching for the tissues on the table by the bed and wiping off his own hand and then Kurt's. The tissues landed on the floor as a violent round of coughs hit him and he couldn't make himself move to pick them up. Hopefully they would pass for the product of sickness.

He settled into Kurt's chest, pulling Kurt's arm around him to curl over his side. The bed was still too hot, fever and combined body heat making them both sweat in against each other. Blaine felt too sick to care, not even about the discomfort in his pyjama pants (and he and Kurt really should have thought that through – fever did bad things for the brain). He closed his eyes and pressed his face into Kurt's neck, listened to his soft, slightly sickness-laboured breathing. His body was ready to sink back into oblivion, but as he closed off the world beyond his eyelids, his brain was whirring back into action, mind focused on one thing. He tried to push it away, counting sheep, counting Kurt's breaths, counting the beats of Kurt's heart. It kept coming back, as he knew it would: the worry, the anger, the headline beating black on white in his mind's eye.

A floor below, Burt and Carole stared down at the paper for the tenth time that day, reading the words and willing them not to be true. But it had all been leading to this, really. They had just been waiting for it.

"September," Carole said, reading the word from the paper. "When Congress is back in session."

"It's what I expected."

"I know." She sighed, closing the paper and folding it. "I kept hoping it would never come to this."

"Let's hope I'll be there to vote against it," Burt said, watching as the words were folded away, the words that could seal off his son's future.

"You will," Carole said, gripping his arm. "And even if you're not, one bill isn't going to break us. People will see sense."

"You have too much good faith," he replied, laying a hand over hers.

"Better to have too much than none at all, don't you think?"


	33. Black Star

_Author's Note: All I'll say up here is I'm sorry it took so long, this has been such a hectic summer. Final notes are at the end. _

* * *

><p><em>Chapter 31 - Black Star<em>

The fever broke overnight for Blaine, curled up in Kurt's arms. He woke with a clear head, chest still aching, but overall not like he wanted to climb into bed and never leave again. Kurt, however, was not so lucky. The medicine wore off while he slept and he woke sweating and shaking in Blaine's arms, tears seeping into Blaine's shirt as he sobbed. It had been everyone this time, screaming out in anguish that Kurt couldn't save them from. Someone had been holding his hands behind his back, laughing silkily in his ear, and he twisted desperately until he woke to Blaine's lips over his, whispering love onto his skin. He let Blaine hold him until the shakes stopped.

A phone call came from Blaine's mother soon after, and he had to leave Kurt's bed, giving him one last, desperate kiss and a promise that he would be back as soon as he could. Kurt watched him go, blinking into sleep and back out when Carole pressed another couple of spoonfuls of medicine between his lips. She drew him a bath, which he walked to on shaky legs and then curled up under the water, on the edge of sleeping and slipping under. His father knocked on the door and he was too weak to protest as he was washed, his hands covering himself in some attempt at decency.

"Come on," Burt said, putting a hand under his arm. "Can you get out?"

"Yeah," Kurt whispered, leaning heavily on his father and stumbling out of the bath and into the waiting towel. "Thanks, Dad." He leaned into Burt, resting his head on his chest and sighing into him.

"Need to make sure you're okay," Burt replied, an arm around Kurt's shoulders despite the water on his skin.

Kurt didn't say anything, just leaned and rested and breathed his father in before he was led back to his room. He dried himself off and put on the clean pyjamas laid out on his fresh sheets. Carole had been in here, he could tell, and there was more water on the bedside table, a vase of flowers beside it. He climbed back into bed, coughing into the back of his hand and picking up his phone. There were a few messages of love and concern from Blaine which he replied to with a smile, and words of worry from Mercedes which warmed his heart. There was nothing from Rachel, which he tried not to think too much on. She was at his house so often now, he was sure she would know that he was sick. He wasn't expecting messages, but it was odd not to have heard from her at all.

Finn clumped into his room with another tray some time later. Kurt wasn't sure of time any more; it was all fluid, sleep and waking shivering together like ink on water. Kurt chewed at the edge of his toast without butter, propped up on his pillows, and watching Finn in the chair beside his bed.

"I don't even know if I love Quinn any more," Finn said, rubbing a hand over his face. "She tries to control everything and everyone in her life, even us, and I don't know if I can deal with it."

It was hard for Kurt to decide whether to be Blaine's boyfriend or Finn's brother at that moment. Loyalty was a convoluted concept. In the end, he tried for both. "If breaking up is the best for both of you, you shouldn't be afraid of it."

"You think I should break up with her?"

"You just said that you don't think you love her. I'm not telling you what to do. It's not my relationship. I just know that if you're doubting how you feel about her, you should… maybe tell her?" Finn nodded, reaching out to pick at Kurt's bedspread. "Is this to do with Rachel?"

"What?" He looked up at Kurt, expression almost guilty. "No. Well… kind of, I guess. Just that she's so different, you know? She reminded me what it's like when everything just works. It's easy to be with her."

"Relationships are never easy, Finn."

"I know, but." He groaned. "This isn't coming out right. She makes me remember what I always wanted. It was never like this with Quinn, she's always too focused on other people and what they think of us, and her own popularity. It's all about image with her."

"And Rachel?"

"Rachel's just… Rachel. It's nice."

Kurt nodded, nibbling at the last piece of toast. "Have you seen her lately?"

"Rachel? No, not since before Prom. I thought she was hanging out at Blaine's house or something."

"You haven't spoken to her at all?"

"No. Have you?"

"No," Kurt said, frowning. He grabbed his phone, shooting off a text to Mercedes. "Neither has Blaine."

"Huh." Finn sat up in his chair. "I don't know, I didn't want to push too much, so I just left it.

"Wait, what day is it?"

Finn gave him a strange look. "Tuesday. Dude, how out of it are you?"

"Very," Kurt muttered, picking up his phone again. The least he could do was warn Blaine that he might be getting a heartbroken Quinn that afternoon. "Look, I'll call Rachel and see where she's been. You just… go and sort out your life."

Finn chuckled, pushing himself out of the chair like it was a monumental effort. "Alright, bro. Say 'hi' to Rachel for me, yeah?"

"Yeah," Kurt said, forcing a smile. As soon as Finn was gone he grabbed his water and drank half of it, desperately trying to abate the headache he could feel pressing at his temples. His chest blocked up and he cleared his throat a couple of times, coughed once, drank more water and leaned his head back against the wall. Why did everything around him always fall apart?

* * *

><p>Blaine gave Quinn a tight hug when she arrived. He'd already bought her coffee, as well as a cookie to make her feel better. When he had ushered her into her seat she gave him a suspicious frown over the tabletop.<p>

"What's going on?"

"I – nothing." So it hadn't happened yet. "I'm just really glad that we're friends."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at him. "No, that's not it. What have you done?"

Blaine's stomach curled in on itself because that was the problem really, wasn't it? He had done so many things wrong and hurt Quinn so many different ways without her even knowing. "No, it's… I just…"

Quinn's phone buzzed on the tabletop. She picked it up, glancing over at him once she'd read the caller ID. "It's Finn."

"Oh. Yeah, answer it." He bit his lip, watching her pick up the phone. He crossed his fingers under the table that Finn had the decency to at least break up with his girlfriend face to face. He listened to Quinn's side of the conversation, but it gave very little away. When she hung up the phone, she didn't look crushed and she hadn't yelled, so he hoped for the best.

"He wants to see me."

"Okay. Do you need to leave?"

"Not just yet." She wrapped both her hands around her cup and dropped her head. "He's going to break up with me."

"Quinn—"

"He invited me to his house."

"He _what_?" Blaine snapped, realising too late that he hadn't reined in his shock. Quinn looked up at him, frowning again. "He's just, um, he's never done that, right?"

"No, because he thinks I'm going to sell out his faerie stepbrother."

Blaine choked on the air in his throat and quickly brought his cup to his lips to stop him from saying something stupid. On the other side of the table, Quinn groaned. "And there, I did it. That makes two times."

Blaine didn't say anything; _couldn't _say anything.

"Do you have a problem with faeries?" she asked, wondering at his choking silence.

"No." The word came out too vehemently and Quinn sat back a little. "No. I'm… you could, um, call me a faerie rights activist."

Quinn's lips parted, but it took her while to find a reply. "So I guess you don't agree with me outing him to you."

Blaine could feel his resolve buckle and crumble: he couldn't keep lying to her like this. "Look, Quinn—"

The phone buzzed again and she snatched it up. "Yes, Finn, I'm on my way." She stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder and draining her cup. "I'll be there soon." She hesitated before leaning over to hug Blaine goodbye. He clutched her to him, hoping this wouldn't be the last time he had the chance, and tried to thread every inch of apology into that embrace. She pulled back with a slight sheen over her eyes, hanging up the phone and staring at it for a moment. "I'll see you next week."

"Next week."

* * *

><p>When Kurt emerged from his room feeling like a fully functioning human being two days later, it was to find his living room full of people, posters, blaring television and scattered remnants of abandoned speeches. He paused in the doorway, watching Mercedes and Blaine pick up a pile of posters, evidently ready to paper the neighbourhood once more. Carole was sitting with Burt as he edited something at the coffee table. Finn was intently watching WOHN, where they were announcing the latest polls between Burt and the other candidates. Rachel was in the corner, fiddling with a piece of paper. Even Mercedes' family was there, her parents in discussion next to Burt and Carole, Abel curled up on the couch with Finn. There were piles of newspapers – all the locals and the state-wide – on all surfaces. It was madness.<p>

Blaine saw him first, grinning widely and bounding over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "You're feeling better."

"Yeah," Kurt said, still looking around at the room. "What's going on?"

"Your dad has an election to win," Mercedes said, joining them in the doorway. "I know you've been sick, but don't tell me you've forgotten."

"Wow," Kurt said, watching Mercedes' father reach over and edit something for Burt. "Your family's helping?"

"They thought it was about time our families joined. We're not kids any more, so accidental connection's much less likely. Plus, our parents get on really well."

Kurt grinned, reaching out to squeeze her hand. He linked his arm through Blaine's, pulling on the pile of posters to see what they said. "Wait, tomorrow? He's debating tomorrow? He didn't tell me."

"You would have tried to get out of bed," Blaine said, raising his eyebrows when Kurt made a noise of denial.

"Wait, what are you all doing here? It's the middle of the day."

Mercedes frowned at him. "School's out, remember?"

"You're all on vacation?"

"Free, all day, every day," Blaine said, grinning widely at him. His eyes were sparkling and Kurt was sure Mercedes knew what he was getting at, but couldn't care. He laughed and took half the pile from Blaine.

"Well, let's get postering. Put all your _free time_ to good use."

* * *

><p>Kurt pulled his hat lower, trying to cover his face a little more. He looked around the hall, bare hands tucked into his elbows with Blaine and Mercedes flanking him. There were so many people, more people than he'd expected. It brought him back to Times Square and his hand slipped out to clutch tightly to Blaine's. Blaine stepped closer to him, hiding their hands between their bodies, and Kurt held back a sigh. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the outside world, where he and Blaine had to hold back from being themselves.<p>

Carole settled them into the front row, Finn by her side. Rachel settled in next to him, then Mercedes, Kurt and Blaine. In the row behind them, Mercedes' and Rachel's parents were discussing their own "child prodigies". Kurt huffed a laugh, leaning into Blaine.

A man walked out onto the raised stage at the front of the room, tapping on a microphone and effectively silencing the crowd. He looked out at them with a wide smile, introducing their candidates for the evening. Behind him, they filed onto the stage, each taking a seat at the back. Burt was spruced up in a suit; he'd wanted to keep to flannel and a cap, take his place as one of the people, but Kurt and Carole had given him identical looks and he had relented.

They watched a few of the other candidates take to the podium. Kurt couldn't understand how some of them were actually running for this, with the things they talked about. Even more shocking was that a lot of the crowd seemed to like their "policies".

When Burt finally stood behind the microphone, Kurt's fingers squeezed painfully tight around Blaine's. Burt looked out at the room, gave a smile and gruff clearing of his throat, then glanced down at his notes before training his eyes up again. He caught Kurt's gaze as he began to speak.

"Equality. That's one word I believe you should be hearing a lot in the coming months. Marriage equality. Social equality. Equality in healthcare, equality in taxes and funding. Equality in faerie rights.

"We're all equal. Whether our blood runs red or blue, it doesn't matter because we're the same. I don't back the faerie rights repeal bill. I will never back it because it goes against all those things I believe are right for our country. This is America, the country of freedom. Of dreams. A place where everyone should be able to get what they dream of if they work hard enough. You take rights away from people, people just like us no matter what we call them, then you take away those chances. America takes more than one step backwards into segregation and prejudice. I thought we had moved on from that and I want us to keep on moving into a better society, an equal society."

Kurt blinked hard, pushing back the tears welling up. He watched his dad stand in front of so many people and speak from his heart about the people's rights, about his son's rights, and it gave Kurt an aching, expansive feeling in his chest; the kind of ache that warms, like his heart was growing and his chest was stretching to accommodate it. He was proud, he was grateful, and for the first time in a long time he was hopeful.

* * *

><p>They waited for Burt outside the hall, where people were milling about exchanging chit chat and views on the debate. Kurt kept his fingers locked with Blaine's, glancing around at the people spilling out of the doors.<p>

"Blaine!"

They both looked up, and in front of them was a blonde family of three, parents making polite conversation with other locals and the neat and beautiful features of Quinn Fabray smiling at them. "Quinn, hi," Blaine said, leaning over to give her a hug. "I didn't know you would be here."

"Same here. You came all the way from Westerville?"

"Yeah, well, can't miss Burt Hummel," Blaine said with a wide grin. Kurt smiled beside him and Quinn's gaze slid to him. Glancing down, she noted their locked hands.

"Oh, you must be the boyfriend." She grinned, holding out a hand. "Quinn Fabray."

Kurt stared down at her hand, trying to think of a way out of this. He didn't have gloves – stupidity, utter stupidity. He began to reach his hand out, but Blaine's hand came up to take his arm just as "Kurt Hummel" fell from Kurt's lips before he could think.

"Hummel?" Quinn said, hand still poised. She looked at Blaine's restraining fingers curiously.

"Hey, bro, want to go for dinner when Burt's out?" Finn clapped Kurt on the shoulder, making him teeter towards Quinn, and Blaine pulled him back sharply.

"Finn," Kurt said, looking up at him. Quinn's head turned sharply, as did Finn's, and the two of them stared at each other.

"Quinn, um, hi." Finn took a step back, face falling. Quinn's eyes moved to behind Finn's shoulder, where Rachel was hovering near Carole, watching them. Her mouth thinned out.

Blaine thought she was going to turn away and leave them, but she suddenly span back to stare at them. Her eyes moved from Finn to Kurt to Blaine, to Kurt and Blaine's hands, then up to Blaine's face. "No."

"Quinn." Blaine let Kurt go, darting towards her. "Please, I was going to tell you."

She stepped away, holding up her hands. She looked back at her parents, gestured with her head, and led them away. Blaine called after her, but she pushed through the crowd, moving her family away with military precision. Blaine watched her go, a rushing sound in his ears. It had all crashed down so quickly. She hadn't screamed, or cried, or slapped him. There had just been nothing. No bang; not even a whimper.

Kurt's hand wrapped around his arm. "Blaine, I'm so sorry."

"Wait, you know Quinn?" Finn asked, a deep frown between his eyebrows. Mercedes and Rachel had moved forwards curiously, crowding around them. Blaine took a step back, into Kurt's chest, and tried to steady his breathing.

"Burt!" Carole called to her husband over the crowd and everyone paused a moment before stepping back and moving to greet the man of the hour. Kurt rubbed Blaine's arms, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. He could feel him shaking.

"It's okay," Blaine blurted. He took Kurt's hand. "It'll be okay. She'll be there on Tuesday and we'll just… she'll be there."

Kurt just pressed a kiss to his forehead and drew him over to Burt.

* * *

><p>The next few days were one large flurry. Paper seemed to cover the entirety of the Hummel household and the news was constantly in the background. Tuesday came and went, with a red-eyed Blaine stumbling through Kurt's door in the evening.<p>

Rachel faded. She hid behind the activity and the swift talking, sliding into corners and helping in silence. She didn't cling to Finn, she barely spoke to anyone. She was so different from the Rachel she had been that Kurt didn't even notice she was there sometimes. He looked up and jumped when he caught sight of her on the couch.

"Rachel, when did you get here?"

She looked up at the clock. "About four hours ago. I brought vegan cookies if you want them." She looked back at her lap, where she was obsessively rearranging a stack of promotional leaflets. "It's Wednesday."

"Yes," Kurt replied, standing to move and sit beside her. "What's so special about Wednesday?"

"It's after Tuesday."

Kurt laughed, bumping his shoulder against hers. "And why does Tuesday matter?"

Rachel was silent for a minute. She stacked, turned, lined up, turned, lined up. The pile was neat to the point of pain. She looked up around them, checking for others, but they were surprisingly all doing some other job. "Did Quinn show up?"

"What?"

"Coffee with Blaine, did she show up?"

"No." Kurt watched her turn the pile a few more times before taking it from her. "Rachel, what's going on? Why are you asking about Quinn?"

Rachel stood up, walking to the window, and Kurt allowed himself a smile. She was still Rachel, living her life like one big stage, even if she was more like the tree in the background right now. "I feel bad for her. She and Finn were dating for a long time."

"Do you think you played a part in it? Is that the problem?" He didn't follow her to the window. He allowed her that little drama of distance.

There was silence as Kurt watched Rachel stare out at the street. She crossed her arms, taking a breath in and ducking her head. "Yes." She shook her head. "I'll get over it, Kurt. Don't worry."

The front door opened and Rachel shrank back, scuttling into a corner at the sound of Burt and Finn's footsteps heading into the living room. Burt took off his cap and wiped his brow, sweating from the heat outside. "Only a day now, Kiddo," he said, grinning at Kurt. "How's it feel?"

"Well, I know you're going to win, so it feels pretty good," Kurt replied with a smile of his own.

There were more footsteps, on the stairs this time, as Finn dropped onto the sofa, stretching his legs out and turning up the volume on the TV. Blaine came in behind Burt, glancing at Rachel with a creased brow before heading to Kurt.

"Is this mine?" Kurt asked, reaching out to stroke the cardigan Blaine was wearing.

Blaine blushed. "I might have spilt coffee on mine."

"So you're just taking my clothes now?"

Blaine hugged him from behind, murmuring into his ear, "You love it."

"It doesn't go with your outfit."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"I think we've established that I'm the one with taste here. It's the wrong shade."

Blaine huffed and squeezed Kurt's shoulders a little too hard. He stepped into the kitchen and returned with a cookie in each hand, one of which he passed to Kurt. "Vegan cookies, courtesy of one Rachel Berry."

Rachel looked up at her name, as did Finn. He jumped, noticing her for the first time. "Hey, Rachel, didn't see you there."

Rachel's answering smile was brittle, but Finn didn't seem to notice. "Hi." She looked away and straightened the pile of newspapers on the dresser.

The evening was a strange sort of calm. There was nothing more they could do now – Burt had promoted and spoken and debated and plastered the whole town. All they could do was wait. The stillness buzzed and Kurt crawled into bed far too early after Blaine left to try to escape it. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, wishing the pressing feeling on his chest would go away. He couldn't shake the sense that something was coming. The other shoe was going to drop, and it was going to drop hard.

He rolled over, pulled a pillow to his chest and curled his body around it, balling up to push the tension out of his body. It stayed, wrapped around his muscles, and his eyes stayed open and trained on the wall.

* * *

><p>Kurt was downstairs with the dawn, eyes dry and head pounding. He went out to see if there was any post, grabbing the paper and throwing some advertising leaflets away on his way inside. He passed the stacks of newspapers in the living room, the last words of the headline about the faerie rights bill sliding across his vision. His stomach twisted up again at the thought of people writing up the words to sign away his freedom. He dropped the post and the paper on the kitchen table and made himself a cup of coffee, sitting down and taking a sip. He blinked a few times, clearing his eyes, and unfolded the paper.<p>

His cup landed heavily on the table, coffee sloshing over the sides and spraying onto the paper. Some of the flecks landed on the large photo on the front page, across his own chest. A huge copy of himself stared back at him. He gaped at it, eyes roving across it. He was entering the house, smiling and looking back at someone. It was Blaine – he was holding his hand – but his face was hidden. Kurt didn't need to look at the headline to know what it said; the words 'gay faerie son' were painted all over it.

His chair clattered to the floor as he ran to the bathroom, falling over the toilet and dry retching into it. His stomach was empty and his throat worked around nothing as he gasped over the bowl.

"Kurt?" His father's voice was at the doorway. Kurt retched again. There was a hand at his back and Burt's hand was pressed against his forehead. "Are you sick again?"

Kurt shook his head, slumping back against the wall. "I'm sorry, Dad. I'm so sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"Burt." Carole came into the bathroom, paper clutched in one hand. Her wide eyes found Kurt's as she held it out with a shaking grip. "I think you should take a look at this."

* * *

><p>The cheer when Burt won wasn't as loud as it should have been. Maybe it was because all of Kurt's senses seemed dulled, like the world was on mute. There were camera flashes everywhere, local press capturing those first moments with their new congressman. A man Kurt didn't know grabbed his arm and he flinched, but he wasn't released until he was shoved up beside his father and Carole and told to smile.<p>

"The people are changing," Burt said over the celebration dinner. Carole had cooked for twenty and was beaming as she spooned food onto plates, the smile only dropping occasionally when she looked over at Kurt. "They knew about us." He paused, looking to his son. "They knew about Kurt, and they still voted me in. Maybe they don't care who's a faerie and who isn't, or maybe they want to back the equality we stand for. Either way, Ohio is different."

"They wouldn't have voted for you if they didn't trust you, Dad." Kurt squeezed his arm. "I'm proud of you. We all are."

A cheer rose around the table and people raised their glasses in toast. Kurt watched them all, the world back in full focus. Blaine took his hand under the table and they shared a smile. Burt was right: things were changing. They weren't sure if it would be for the better, but change was change; change was healthy. Kurt gripped Blaine's hand and looked around at his family, and for that moment he was sure they could take any change the world threw at them.

* * *

><p><em>Author's Note: (The FINAL One) We've come to the end! Well, the half-end, as there is still the <strong>sequel<strong>. I plan to write that all before I begin posting, so if it takes a while, never fear. It's taken me about a year to get here. I've learned so many things about these characters, and about fic writing in general, from writing this. I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride as much as I have._


End file.
